


Rescue Me and I'll Rescue you

by Neuropsyche



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Cock Warming, Cock Worship, Consensual Underage Sex, Domestic Fluff, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Tony Stark, M/M, Masturbation, May died with Ben and Peter is homeless, Mutual Masturbation, Natasha Romanoff is a bad-ass, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Peter Is Clueless, Peter Needs a Hug, Peter can be a shit, Peter can't cook, Peter is Spiderman, Peter loves to be praised, Poor Peter, Possessive Tony Stark, Protective Peter Parker, Rimming, Somewhat Rough Sex, Starker, Tony is Iron Man, Tony needs a hug - and a drink, and a lot of it, daddy kink develops, somewhat graphic torture nothing to give nightmares, unsuccessful attempted forced sex by an oc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-02-18 16:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 217
Words: 346,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18702880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche
Summary: Tony Stark finds an injured Spiderman and takes him home when he can't figure out what else to do with him





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> So there will be underage sex in this story - come for the ride or stop at the tags. No clue how long this will be, but given that I love to add detail and draw out a story with a lot of smut, no promises that it will be short. Comments welcome, questions? always!  
> Not related to the other stories I've written, but they are seeming to employ a similar theme. Perhaps I will branch out a different day

Queens wasn't really a place Ironman hung out. It certainly wasn't someplace that _Tony Stark_ frequented. Aside from a couple of pretty good restaurants, the billionaire had no reason to go there. It was far from home – his apartment in Manhattan or the actual house that he owned but only used on a rare free weekend – and not really on his radar.

And yet, there he was.

Sitting in the limo, waiting for Happy, in a shit-heap of a neighborhood looking for a somewhat less than reputable tech-head that Tony had heard _might_ have a new kind of software that could _possibly_ work with the new Ironman suit he was tinkering with. The only problem? The guy was a complete recluse and pretty much hung out in his apartment all the time, refusing to meet Tony anywhere beyond his tiny little comfort zone.

Geniuses were weird. Stark could attest to that.

Which was why he was willing to try and find this guy. If only to see if he actually had anything Tony could use. He’d pay handsomely for the software, maybe the guy could buy a life somewhere else. Somewhere that didn’t reek of garbage and vomit.

He saw Happy, his driver, walk out of the building they were double-parked in front of and get into the car.

“He’s not here, boss. His mom said he might be back in an hour or so.”

“Where did he go?”

“I didn’t ask. She was pretty flighty.”

Stark scowled.

“Fine.”

“Do we wait?”

“No. I’ve got better things to do, right now.” Besides, the smell of the alleys was really getting to him. “Let’s go back-“

He was interrupted by a commotion on the other side of the street and down about half a block. Three men came running out of that alley at full speed, looking behind them as if being chased. Two were holding guns and the third, incredulously, was carrying a case of beer. They ran by the car as Happy and Stark both watched, startled. Then, as if it could, it got a little weirder, a figure in red and blue, wearing a mask of some sort, came swinging behind them.

 _Swinging_.

On some kind of… well, Tony didn’t know. Rope? String? He was flitting from light post or building, moving quickly and yelling at the three to stop. Right in front of the car, he shot more of the string out of his hand, somewhere, and nailed the guy holding the beer with it, dropping him literally right there on the sidewalk. Without stopping, the costumed figure hit the sidewalk and ran after the remaining two on foot, ducking after them when they ran into an alley.

“Well?” Stark said to Happy, who was still staring. “ _Follow them_!”

That wasn't something you saw _every day_ , after all.

The driver started the car and tires squealed as he made a U turn to drive toward the alley the three had vanished into. Even as they entered the alley, Stark saw another of the men – this one pinned to the side of a building, struggling to free himself of even more of the rope or whatever it was. Happy drove right by him intent on the two retreating figures ahead of them, and Stark tapped his watch to have FRIDAY notify the police of what was going on – just in case no one in the neighborhood already had.

As the car crossed one side street, still following the two running ahead of them, the man being chased suddenly turned, brandishing the pistol at his pursuer. The shots were shockingly loud in the narrow confines of the alley, and the costumed figure dropped. Just as the car reached him, however, he was back on his feet, once more chasing the man who had just shot at him, only now he was limping, holding his thigh with one hand as he did.

“What the hell?”

No one was going to just get up and keep chasing someone after getting shot, Stark thought, shaking his head. Well, yeah, Steve _I have a perfect smile and a great head of_ hair Rogers probably would, but no one else. Even as they watched, the costumed figure proved him right, and stumbled, falling to the ground in a heap of garbage bags.

“The guy with the gun or the guy who was shot?” Happy asked, wanting to know who he should be chasing.

“The guy in the mask.”

The car slid to a stop and Tony looked around, carefully, before getting out – just to make sure the guy with the gun wasn't looking for another target. Then he opened his door and hurried over to the still figure, half-sprawled against a dumpster, holding his side and panting. Blood was pooling from a tear in the thin fabric of the costume he was wearing.

Stark grabbed his handkerchief and knelt down beside him, immediately pressing the cloth against the wound.

“Hang in there. I’ve got first responders on the way.”

“What?” Even with a mask on over his entire head, Tony could hear the voice was young and frightened. “No.” he tried to struggle to his feet. “I’m fine. Thanks for the help. I gotta go.”

He tried to move away, and Tony caught him, feeling ribs even through the sweatshirt the boy was wearing.

“You’re hurt. Help is coming.”

“Yeah, I heard you. I’m okay,” the figure repeated. “I can’t talk to the police. Thanks, though.”

He raised his arm, pointing his hand at one of the fire escapes on the back of the building and more of that rope shot out from his hand. Before he could do anything else, though, Stark stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, kid. Let me help you.”

“No! I’m okay. _Really_.”

He moved and the injured leg gave way under him, causing him to stumble into Tony, who caught him before he could fall. Securing a grip on him Tony gestured for Happy to open the door and the two men hustled the much smaller figure into the back of the car. Tony went in behind him and closed the door with a slam.

“Get us out of here, Happy,” Stark ordered, already reaching for the first aid kit that was kept in the back of the car.

“Where are we going?”

“Whatever hospital is closest.”

“I _can’t_ ,” the masked boy said. “Just drop me off _anywhere_. I’m fine.”

Stark scowled, but reacted to the fear and agony in the voice, even though he had yet to see who he was dealing with face to face.

“Take us to my apartment,” he told the driver.

“Okay.”

The car started, again, and headed back the way they came. In the distance was the sound of a lot of sirens. Shaking his head and wondering if he was now in the company of some kind of ax murderer – or worse – but doubting it, very much, the billionaire turned to his new companion, opening the first aid kit.

“Let’s take a look.”

When he reached for the waistband of the blue sweats the guy flinched from his touch.

“What are you doing?”

Again the voice was surprisingly young, and still afraid. Tony rolled his eyes.

“Relax, kid. I’m just going to look at your leg, I’m not going to rape you or something. Unless you’d rather I cut off the pantleg?”

“No. I don’t have another pair…”

Stark shook his head and raised the partition between the front and back of the car.

“There. Now it’s just us. I’m Tony Stark.”

“I know.”

“Good. Then you know that I’m _Ironman_ , right?”

“Yeah. Of _course_. Everyone knows that.”

“Then you can probably trust me to help you. Yes? I’m an Avenger, right?”

“Yeah.”

The fear was gone. That was a start, he supposed.

Stark reached for the waistband of the sweats again, and this time when he pulled them down there was no resistance. A pair of ragged boxers joined the sweats down around the boy’s ankles, exposing the gunshot to the boy’s right thigh and a penis that had very little pubic hair surrounding it, attesting to Stark's impression that this guy was young.

“That’s not too terrible…” Stark said, trying to sound reassuring. He took a bottle of water from the mini fridge and poured it on a hand towel, wetting it. “This might hurt a little,” he warned. “Sure you wouldn’t rather go to a hospital? They have _drugs_.”

“No. Go ahead. I can handle it.”

He wiped the blood from the wound and the boy gasped and flinched again. This time from pain.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

When the blood cleared, they found a fairly long gash, still bleeding, but not too badly, now. Stark wiped it as clean as he could with the few supplies that he had, poured half a bottle of hydrogen peroxide into it – which elicited a soft moan of agony from behind the mask, and then wrapped a dressing on it and taped it down with an entire roll of tape.

“It’s not pretty, but it’ll do for now,” Tony said, pulling the sweats and boxers up and trying to get them back into position on the skinny frame. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Although he sounded anything but. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“You can call me Tony, kid.”

“Okay.”

“And you are?”

“ _Spiderman_.”

The billionaire rolled his eyes, torn between being amused and being annoyed.

“Really? We’re going to play this game?”

“It’s called a secret identity for a reason," the boy pointed out.

“Yeah. And that’s fine for the rest of the world, but not for _me_. Again… I’m an Avenger. Who would I tell and why would I _bother_?”

The boy sighed, and the sound was defeated. And tired. Tired enough that it made Tony feel tired, too.

“You won’t tell anyone?”

“No.”

An arm came up and the hand pulled the hood off, revealing a much younger face than Tony expected – even from the voice he’d heard.

“I’m Peter,” the boy told him, closing his eyes. “Peter Parker.”


	2. 2

“Nice to meet you, Peter Parker,” Stark told him, almost automatically. At the same time, he decided that it was almost certainly true. “How _old_ are you?”

“Fifteen. Almost _sixteen_ , though.” He looked out the window, leaning against the leather seat of the plush car at an awkward angle. “You can just drop me anywhere.”

“Where do you live?” Stark asked. “We could take you home, make sure your mom and dad know you’re safe. Do _they_ know your secret identity?”

If the thin, pale face could look more lost, the boy managed it. His eyes – a beautiful brown color that Tony found far too appealing – suddenly seemed even younger, and haunted. Peter shook his head.

“No. They’re, um, they’re dead. They died when I was _little_. My aunt and uncle…” he trailed off. “They took me in.”

“So we’ll take you home and-“

“ _They_ died, too. A Few months ago. It’s okay, though,” Peter said, quickly, as if he was aware that he’d made things extremely awkward at that moment. “I’m _okay_. Just having a bit of a rough time of it, right now.”

Tony inwardly groaned, realizing that in one short conversation he’d unleashed a ton of the kid’s demons without intending to.

“Where are you staying?”

“Oh… well, here and there.”

“No other relatives?”

“A second cousin somewhere in Florida, but I’m not sure. It’s no big deal. Happens to a lot of people, right?”

“What about foster care? I find it hard to believe that the state didn’t step up…”

Stark was appalled. No wonder the kid looked so tired. So defeated. And so thin and pale. On his own at fifteen? _Seriously_? He was definitely going to make some phone calls and get the boy the help he needed. He knew senators and congressmen and if they couldn’t do their jobs right and take care of one scrawny kid, then he’d make sure that-

“They let me slip through the cracks, I guess,” Peter told him with a shrug. “It’s okay, though. I’ve read about foster homes. They work for some people – for some kids – and I’m sure there are a lot of good people out there who do good, but I can’t risk that. What if they kept me from doing the Spiderman thing?”

“You’d have a roof over your head,” Tony pointed out. “A safe place to sleep at night.”

“I _do_. I sleep in the library. After they close. The kids’ section even has a couple of blankets and cushions.”

“What do you eat?”

“I have breakfast and lunch at school.”

“And _dinner_? What about weekends when you’re not in _school_?”

“Then I don’t eat. _Sometimes_. Sometimes I get lucky and find someone with an odd job that needs doing so I can get some money.” He looked uncomfortable, and turned back to the window. “It’s okay. _Really_. In a couple of years I’ll have my diploma, and then I’ll be able to emancipate myself and get a real job. And then I won't need to worry about the state sticking their nose in and keeping me someplace I don't want to be.” Peter gestured at the building they were driving by. “You can just let me out, here. I’ve got to go get my backpack.”

“Your _backpack_?” Tony repeated, stupidly. He was still trying to wrap himself around the kid’s story, and how crazy he was, thinking that he could take care of himself. “Why?”

“It has my other clothes in it,” Peter told him, matter-of-factly. “I can’t go to school dressed like this, obviously.”

 _Obviously_.

Stark shook his head.

“Well, I’m not going to just _drop you off_ , okay? I’ll take you home with me. We’ll make sure you get a decent meal in you, and I’ll have someone more qualified than myself look at that leg to make sure it’s properly taken care of.”

“You can’t tell anyo-“

“Without letting them know what happened,” he added, smoothly. “Relax, Peter. Let me figure it out, okay? Just do what I tell you, for now.”

He hesitated, and then nodded.

Tony thought he might have detected just a little relief in the boy’s eyes, and could understand completely. He saw a tremor run through the slim frame, and realized that it was possible the kid might be on the verge of going into shock. He’d been _shot_ , after all, even if it wasn't a serious wound – luckily. He shrugged off his suit jacket, and draped it over Peter.

“Thanks.”

“You’re _welcome_.” The billionaire opened the minifridge, again, and pulled out an apple. He didn’t really keep a lot of food in the car, because he didn’t spend a lot of _time_ in it. “Here. Eat this. It’ll take your mind off how much the leg hurts.”

“Yeah.” Peter took the fruit, and took a bite, looking over at him, almost shyly, as if suddenly realizing just who he was with. Another indicator that he was probably in shock, Stark decided. “You’re really _Ironman_ …”

Tony smiled and shrugged.

“In the flesh.”

“Wow.”

He didn’t say anything else, though. As they drove, slowly because of traffic, he simply looked out the window, his head now resting against the cool glass as if he were simply too weary to hold it up. Eventually the mostly eaten apple fell from his hand, startling Tony, who had turned his attention to his phone, readying a few things at his apartment with a couple of messages. He looked over and saw that Peter had fallen asleep.

>><><<<<><< 

“You got him?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t drop him.”

“He weighs like twenty pounds, Happy. I’m not going to _drop_ him. Hold the door for me.”

Still bundled in Stark’s suit jacket, the boy hadn’t woken when the car pulled into the basement parking of Stark’s exclusive apartment building. Which left the options of having him finish his nap in the car or Tony simply picking him up and carrying him to the elevator and to his penthouse apartment. Happy was stronger than Tony and wasn't _Ironman_ and a billionaire. _He_ offered to carry Peter, but Tony waved him off, telling him he didn’t mind. He wanted to hold him - although he didn't tell Happy that.

He easily gathered the boy into his arms and got him out of the car – without _dropping_ him – and Happy shut the door as directed. Then the driver led the way to the elevator and pushed the proper button.

“What are you going to do with him?” Happy asked, curiously.

“I’m not sure. Take care of his leg, first. No one hears about his alter-ego. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

Who would he tell?

Peter mumbled something in his sleep, turning his head and tucking his face against Tony’s neck with a soft, pained noise that made Stark double-check that he wasn't holding the injured thigh too tightly.

“The doctor’s on his way?”

“Should be here any time. Traffic’s bad.”

As they well knew.

“Let him up as soon as he calls.”

The elevator door opened, and they emerged into Tony’s luxurious apartment. Rather than bother with the sofa, Stark led Happy to the guest room and the driver opened the door and went ahead to pull back the bedding.

“Need help with him?” he asked, as Tony settled the boy somewhat upright on the edge of the bed.

“No. I’ve got him. Go wait for the doctor, will you?”

“Yeah.”

Happy left and Tony pulled the jacket off Peter. Then he propped him up and pulled the sweatshirt off, too. He’d been right; the boy was almost painfully thin. Probably never had been all that big to begin with, but a couple of months of living on his own and eating sketchy at best had definitely taken its toll. Ribs were showing when they shouldn’t be, and while he was fairly well muscled, it was the lean kind and not bulky.

“We’re going to have to fix that,” Tony murmured, more to himself than to Peter, who wasn't paying any attention to what Tony was doing. Probably just as well since he stripped the sweats and boxers off, next, leaving the boy naked. The sweats were bloody from the bullet wound, and the boxers were a travesty. “We’ll fix _that_ , too,” Tony decided, easing the boy into the bed, making sure that his head was on a pillow and that the injured leg wasn't taking any of Peter’s weight.

He hesitated, feeling just a little guilty that his gaze lingered on the boy’s body a little longer than was technically needed. Not guilty enough that he didn’t look at him, though.  Only when Peter shivered, visibly, did Tony pull the blankets up and cover him, warmly. He leaned over and brushed a very gentle kiss against the boy’s cheek and went out to wait for the doctor.


	3. 3

A throbbing in his leg pulled Peter from a sound sleep. The first sound sleep that he’d had in a very long time. Not dreamless – he _always_ dreamed, it seemed – but no nightmares. The sound of voices, discussing him. Someone holding him gently in strong arms and crooning reassurances to him while his leg was slowly set on fire, and then holding him, still, once the fire had been put out. Even that hadn't been scary. He'd been held and supported the entire time, and knew it. Something being held against his lips until he opened his mouth and took the pill, swallowing it with a mouthful of water.

More discussion and then silence when everything went dark once more.

The boy looked around, confused for a moment. He wasn't in the library – clearly. He was in a bed. A huge, comfortable bed that was piled with blankets and pillows and engulfed him in warmth. The bed was in a room. There was a dresser. A nightstand and a giant flat screen TV on the wall. Two doors led off from the room. One was closed, and the other open. The open one led to a bathroom, with a soft nightlight plugged into an outlet near the door, illuminating the area more than enough for Peter to see everything around him.

Peter groaned at the ache in his leg and remembered, suddenly, why he hurt so much. He sat up in the bed, feeling stiff all over, and pulled the blankets back to look down at himself. He was naked, and there was a brilliant white bandage wrapped around the meaty part of his thigh. Not the same bandage that Tony Stark had cobbled together, either. This one looked like it had probably been done professionally. Which might explain some of the dreams that he’d had.

“Huh.”

He looked around, again, running his fingers along the bandage, trying to figure out where he hurt the most. He thought he might have heard a voice beyond the closed door, but he wasn't sure. The nightstand had his wallet on it, which had been in his sweat’s pocket. Not that there was much in it. His student ID card and a few quarters. A picture of May and Ben. His webshooters were also there. He didn’t see his sweats, anywhere, or even his underwear. The room had a window, and even though the shades were drawn, he could see that it was dark outside. He wondered how long he’d been asleep.

And what he should do, next.

The door opened, then, admitting a bright light from the next room and Tony Stark. The billionaire turned on the light, which luckily wasn't as bright in the room Peter was in. Peter pulled the blankets back over his leg as the older man walked over.

“FRIDAY said you were awake…” he told the boy, smiling down at him. “How do you feel?”

He was wearing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Peter could faintly see the glow of the arc reactor in his chest through the dark fabric and wondered if it hurt.

“Who?”

“FRIDAY,” Tony told him. “My AI. She pretty much has the run of the place, which will work out well while you’re here, in case you need anything.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Peter,” Stark said. “How do you feel?”

“I’m fine. Just a little sore.”

“Yes. The doctor said the wound looks clean. He couldn’t stitch it – apparently it’s too wide for that, so we’ll use a pressure bandage and a lot of tape to keep it from opening.”

“I’m okay?”

Tony smiled; a warm smile that made Peter feel a little warm, himself. It had been a long time since someone had cared.

“You will be. With a little TLC, and a _lot_ of food and sleep. He promised.”

“He doesn’t know who I am?”

“Nope.” Stark sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled the blanket back before Peter realized what he was doing. The older man’s hand went to the wounded leg, and his fingers gently probed the area around the bandages and tape. He looked at Peter, who flushed. “Does that _hurt_ , at all?”

“A little.”

“He gave me some pain medication for you. Pills that can keep it from hurting too much. Want one?”

“Oh. Um… no. Yes?”

The billionaire snorted, amused.

“Which is it?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Peter admitted, uncertainly. “Will they make me loopy? I can’t go out and risk trying to sneak into the library if I’m not all there…”

“You’re not going _out_ , right now, anyway,” Tony told him, matter-of-factly. “For a few days, at least, you probably aren’t going to be up to going any further than the bathroom and maybe the living room.”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re… you know… _you_. And I’m not.”

“That made no sense,” Tony said, amused. “You _know_ that, right?”

He moved his hand from the boy’s leg and covered him back up, propping a couple of the pillows behind him to keep him upright, his body pressing against Peter’s while doing so, and an arm almost around the boy.

“Yeah. Sorry. I just… I can’t stay here.”

“Bed’s too little? Room’s too crowded?”

“No. It’s great. They’re _both_ great. I can’t impose.”

“Huh.” Stark rubbed his hand, looking at Peter, intently. His eyes were really intense, the boy decided. And the gaze was shockingly frank. “I looked you up, you know? On _YouTube_ , mostly There are some interesting videos out there.”

“Yeah.” Peter blushed. “It’s all special effects.”

Tony ignored that. They both knew better.

“You want to be a superhero?”

“No.” he shrugged. “I just want to do what’s right. Help out people when I can. That kind of thing.”

“Like chasing down a trio of convenience store thieves?”

“I was right _there_. They ran right by me. What was I supposed to do? Let them go?”

“They were _armed_.”

“Yeah. I hadn’t actually thought _that_ part through,” he admitted.

Stark smiled. He was young. That automatically meant dumb. Or maybe reckless was a better term.

“At any rate, you’re not up to leaving, just yet, and as the ranking superhero in the room, I am officially _ordering_ you to stay here until you’re better.”

Peter frowned.

“Can you do that?”

“Just did.”

“But…”

“You don’t _want_ to stay here?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Who _wouldn’t_? It was warm, it was luxurious, and it was safe. Further; _Tony Stark_ was there.

“Good.”

“But I’m an imposition.”

“No.” Tony shook his head, reaching out and touching Peter’s cheek for just a moment. “You’re not. You’re very welcomed company. Okay? It’s too quiet here, sometimes. It’ll be nice to have someone hanging out with me. Now do what I tell you. Got it?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Are you hungry? The doctor said the painkillers shouldn’t go down on an empty stomach – or you’ll get sick.”

“Yeah. I could eat.”

“Preference?”

“Anything.”

“Any allergies?”

“Latex and strawberries.”

“Strawberries? _Really_?”

“Yeah.”

“What are the odds of that…?”

“What?”

“Oh.” Stark shook his head. “ _Nothing_. I was talking to myself. No strawberries. Got it. No latex…? Well, we should probably know that, too. In case I decide you need a balloon to cheer you up, or something.”

Peter shook his head, but didn’t argue.

“I don’t see my clothes…”

“Because I threw them out.”

“What?”

“They were a mess, Peter,” Tony told him. “Your sweats were bloody and gross, and your boxers…? Well, they were pretty much falling apart. We’ll find you new ones. No worries.”

“They’re all I had…” Peter told him.

“No. They _were_ all you had. We’ll get you new ones.”

“But I can’t afford – I mean, I don’t have the money to buy new ones, Tony.”

He was blushing, hotly, now, uncomfortably aware that he didn’t have _anything_ and so used to concealing that from those around him that he was embarrassed by the fact.

“Don’t _worry_ about it, Peter,” Tony repeated, feeling a sudden desire to hug the boy and hold him until he stopped looking so stricken. “The Avengers have a fund for up and coming superheroes. Clothes, food, costumes and anything else that they need. _You_ are a perfect candidate for that. We’ll take care of you. _I’ll_ take care of you.”

“But why?”

“Because someone needs to. Why can’t it be me?”

“Because you’re _Ironman_ … and I’m… well… I’m _not_. I’m nobody.”

“Peter…”

Now Tony _did_ pull him into his arms. The boy definitely needed someone to bolster him. He couldn’t even imagine the rough time he’d been having, lately. Peter sniffed, and tensed, but then melted into the embrace, accepting it for what it was and burying his face into Tony’s shirt, right beside the arc reactor. Taking comfort in the strong arms holding him while he shook, even though he didn’t cry. He wasn't ready to cry, yet.

“I’m sorry,” the boy said, pulling away, flushed with embarrassment for having broken down in front of – _of all people_ – Tony Stark.

“Don’t be. Next time _I_ need a hug, I’m coming to _you_ ,” he assured him, brushing his hair back from his forehead with a tender touch. “Don’t _ever_ call yourself a nobody, again. Understand? You’ve got some mad skills and a good heart to go with them”

And obviously a solid set of _values_ , since with the skills Tony had seen on the net, the kid could be taking care of himself better than he was if he was willing to break a few laws and steal what he needed.

“Yeah.”

Peter didn’t look convinced, of course, but it didn’t matter just then. Before the boy could process that, Stark got up, a bundle of nervous energy all of the sudden. He opened the drawer in the nightstand – Peter hadn’t even _noticed_ it – and pulled out a remote, which he handed to the boy, leaning over and brushing a kiss against his cheek.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

He left, and Peter stared after him, feeling very much like a deer in headlights must. And just as helpless, really.

>><><<<<><<> 

When Stark returned a few minutes later, he saw that Peter had turned on the TV and was easily navigating the menu, looking idly through the programs available. With Tony’s network and connections, that meant pretty much anything and everything that was there to be watched. He smiled as he carried a tray over to the bed.

“What are you going to watch?”

“I was just looking,” the boy told him, looking at the tray with undisguised interest. That made the older man smile; he was a good cook and had always been proud of the fact. He wasn't just a pretty face, after all. “Did _you_ want to watch anything?”

“Does that mean you don’t mind if I keep you company while you eat?” Stark asked, settling the tray across the boy’s hips and flipping the legs down to secure it to the bedding.

It was holding a relatively simple meal; baked chicken, home fries and green beans. The doctor had noticed the boy’s malnourished state and had reminded Stark not to try and stuff a ton of food down him the first night, or be prepared to have it all come back up on him if he did, and Tony had taken the advice to heart.

“Sure.”

“Take this, first,” Tony told him, handing over a pill and opening Peter’s bottle of water. “Pain pill.”

Peter knocked it back, willingly, and then looked at him.

“You’re not eating?”

“I already had dinner. Those are _leftovers_.”

The boy smiled; they didn’t _look_ like leftovers.

“It smells great.”

“Because I am an excellent cook. Can I sit by you?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

Smiling at the sincerity in his expression, Stark settled in beside Peter, propping himself up with a few pillows.

“Eat.”

The TV played on, but while Peter was eating Stark asked him questions about himself. Nothing about his past – not just then, although they were things that he’d want to know, _eventually_ – but likes and dislikes, that sort of thing. He was impressed by the fact that Peter was determined that despite everything that had happened, he was going to finish high school, maybe even get himself into a college, if he could figure out the finances. Even more, with a few questions, Tony quickly ascertained that the boy wasn't just a bit smart, he was a veritable _genius_.

Reaching over him, Stark took the webshooters from the nightstand, pressing himself against Peter’s chest to avoid spilling the remains of his dinner by bumping it as he did, and feeling a little thrill go through him when the boy’s hand brushed his side.

“ _You_ made these?” Tony asked, holding them up once he was back on his side of the bed.

“Yeah.”

“And the stuff that comes out of them?” he asked. “I made a mess in the living room, experimenting with them.”

Peter smiled; amused by the confession.

“It’ll dissolve in a couple of hours.”

“It already _did_ ,” Stark confirmed. “What is it?”

“Just some stuff that I made in chemistry class. I use it to swing myself through the higher buildings.”

“Your teacher knows?”

“No. I did it during a lecture. The most recent version, anyway. It’s constantly evolving.”

“As everything should until you get it right.”

“That’s how I feel, too.”

“I knew there was something I liked about you, Peter.”

Peter smiled; and Tony realized that the boy’s eyes were just a little dazed. Like a person who was almost drunk, but trying very hard to convince himself – and _others_ – that he was stone cold sober. Clearly the painkiller was taking charge of the kid’s system. Not surprisingly, considering how much of a lightweight he was.

“I’m a _likeable_ guy, Tony,” Peter told him.

“Yes, you are.” Ugh. Those brown eyes were working overtime on him. The guy didn’t know it, though, and Tony was a lot of things, but he wasn't someone who’d take advantage. Especially not when the other person was fifteen – and _hurt_ , to boot. Well... hurt. Age was just a number, really. “I think I’d better let you get some sleep. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Peter flushed, as if recognizing the tension in the older man’s gaze. It only made him more adorable, as far as Tony was concerned. “Did I say thank you, yet?”

“You _did_ ,” Tony told him. “But you don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do. _Thank you_.”

Stark nodded, reached over Peter to put the webshooters back on the nightstand again – and shivered when Peter touched his side, _again_. He felt himself twitch and knew it was time to make his escape.

The billionaire got off the bed and picked the tray up from Peter’s lap. He smiled, though, unable to help himself as he bent down and kissed the boy. A light, tender and not quite innocent kiss that was made all the sweeter when Peter licked his lip when Tony pulled back, looking for his reaction without seeming to be.

“Get some sleep, Peter,” he told the boy. “If you need anything, though, tell FRIDAY and she’ll summon me.”

“How do I do that?”

Good point.

“You say _‘FRIDAY, I need Tony.’_ She’ll relay to me.”

“Okay.”

The boy closed his eyes, still mostly upright, the blankets pooling around his waist. Stark rested the tray against his hip, freeing a hand to draw the blankets up and over his bare chest and belly.

“Good night, Peter.”

“Night, Tony.”

He left, carrying the tray into the kitchen, and almost immediately heard a call from his AI.

_“Peter says he needs you.”_

Tony frowned, and went back to the guest room, leaning through the open doorway.

“You okay?”

Peter smiled, sleepily.

“Just checking.”

Stark echoed that smile, amused and a little touched.

“Smartass. Go to sleep.”

“Yes, sir.”

Still smiling, Stark went to go finish his dishes, but he left Peter’s door open. Just in case.


	4. 4

_“Peter is awake.”_

“About time.”

Tony Stark had been awake since midnight. Of course, he didn’t really sleep all the much, anyway, but he’d specifically told FRIDAY to rouse him at midnight so that he could give Peter another painkiller – just in case. Then, while he was awake – _mostly_ – the boy had said he needed the bathroom, but hadn’t been able to manage getting there alone. Stark was amused to find himself propping the kid up while he peed and then while he washed his hands and face, after.

Watching him, Tony noted that for someone who was living homeless, he wasn't _dirty_. Yes, he definitely needed a haircut, and the already noted ribs needed some more meat on them, but _he_ was clean, and his _hair_ was clean.

When he mentioned it, Peter told him that he used the locker room at school to shower, even on days that they didn’t do any running. Which made sense.

“No showers right now, though,” Tony had reminded him. “Not until the doctor clears you to get that wound wet.”

“Okay.”

The boy hadn’t argued. He'd simply leaned even more on Stark as they went from the bathroom to the bed, and had settled into his blankets with a tired and relieved sigh, not even blushing when Tony had double checked the bandage on his thigh for any seepage before covering him back up, giving him the needed pain pill and kissing him, lightly, before telling him to go back to sleep.

With the sun shining outside the bedroom window, Tony didn’t need to turn the light on when he tapped lightly on the door, warning the boy he was coming into the room.

Peter was sitting up, even though the billionaire had helped him into a more prone position the night before.

“Good morning,” he said, cheerfully, walking over to the bed still wearing the sweats and t-shirt that he had been wearing the evening before. He’d already called and advised those who needed to know that he wasn't going to be in to work. As such, he wasn't in any hurry to change. “How do you feel?”

“A little sore,” Peter admitted.

“Yeah?” Tony had anticipated the need for the painkiller and handed it over, giving it to Peter with a glass of water. “Take that, and then we’ll have a look.”

While Peter was downing the pill, Tony opened the drawer to the stand once more. This time he pulled out several rolls of bandages, some medicated wipes, some tape and a pair of scissors. Peter set the glass on the stand and then watched as Stark pulled the blankets aside to bare the leg – and all the rest of him, of course – and then settled himself on the bed, next to the boy’s thigh.

Brandishing the scissors, he winked at Peter.

“Hold _very_ still, okay? We don’t want me to snip off parts that are supposed to be there for years to come.”

The boy blushed, slightly, but also smiled – and only a little nervously.

“Yeah. Are you _sure_ you know what you’re doing?”

“The doctor made sure before he left. Trust me.”

“I do.”

They both watched, though, as Tony cut through the bandages and tape wrapped around Peter’s thigh. Then they both winced almost twin grimaces – although neither noticed the other – when he carefully pulled the bandage and exposed the injury.

“Huh…”

Stark looked up at Peter.

“ _Huh_?” he echoed. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. I thought it would look _grosser_ than that.”

“It’s pretty gross, Peter.”

“Yeah. But not… I don’t know.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah. A little.”

“Let me put this medicated stuff on it and wrap it back up. Then we’ll get some breakfast.”

“Okay.”

Peter about jumped out of his skin the moment that Tony touched him with the medicated wipe. He hissed in pain and only Tony’s hold on his leg stopped Stark from tumbling off the bed.

“Shh… shhh…” the older man bent and blew on the wound, gently, an echo of a long-forgotten memory of his mother doing the same for him when he’d skinned his knee. “I’m sorry… shhhh…”

Peter trembled, watching as Tony held his leg in his strong hands, head bent over his lap. He couldn’t see him blowing on the wound, but he could _feel_ it, and he couldn’t see him crooning, softly, but he could _hear_ it. What he _could_ see, to his profound embarrassment, was that the sight of the man so intimately close to him, his hair brushing against his thigh and his lap, was making him aroused, despite the pain lacing through his leg at the moment.

He tried everything that he could think of; thinking of old ladies playing bingo. Of sports – which didn’t do anything for him. Of puppies and kittens and babies. It wasn't working, and if anything, he was growing harder, and definitely not losing his erection. He groaned, and covered his face with a pillow; any minute Tony was going to look up to check on him and there wasn't any way to hide what was happening.

“It’s okay, Peter…” Stark murmured, still blowing on the gash. When he heard the boy groan so oddly, though, he looked up, alarmed, and was surprised at what he was seeing. The boy was _turned on_! Probably not a pain kink or something like that, Tony was certain. It was probably the sensation of having him so close. Fifteen was pretty much a hair trigger age, Tony remembered well. Of course, the sight of Peter so fully aroused didn’t help Tony. He felt himself twitch in automatic response, but _he_ wasn't fifteen and ignored the sudden excitement that surged through him.

He thought about how best to address the obvious elephant in the room while he finished cleaning Peter’s thigh, taking delight in blowing on the wound, only now with his head turned just a little so he could blow on that eager rod of flesh as well. There was almost certainly something wrong with the enjoyment that he took from exciting the boy so thoroughly, but he couldn’t help it. He layered several thick bandages over the injury, wrapped it with far more gauze than the doctor had, and then taped it all down as carefully as he could.

Then, he moved himself in between Peter’s thighs, nudging the boy’s knees apart, and leaned into him until his face was level with the boy’s.

“Peter…?”

“Yeah?”

His voice was muffled, because he hadn’t moved the pillow.

“I’m done.”

“Okay.”

Stark smiled, and pulled the pillow away, his eyes eager to meet the boy’s. Only Peter had his squeezed tightly closed.

“Hey…” Tony made his voice soft, and he brushed his fingers against the boy’s cheek. “Peter? Come on… open your eyes and look at me. It’s okay. _Really_.”

“No.”

Stark chuckled, and bent his head, kissing the boy’s too skinny chest and then working his way lower, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he licked and kissed Peter’s belly, and then his stomach, and then finally slid his tongue along the slit of Peter’s cock, tasting the precum that was dribbling from the tip.

Peter moaned, and now it was a mix of agony and excitement. He was tense, though, and held himself still. Even when Tony licked his tongue the entire length of the boy’s shaft, from the root up to the head.

“It’s perfectly normal to be aroused like that,” Tony told him, licking the head of Peter’s cock and then teasing the underside. “It’s part of being a man. And it’s _exciting…”_

Peter whimpered, and Tony looked up and saw that he still hadn’t opened his eyes. His hands were clenching the comforter on either side of his torso and his breathing was coming in faint gasps.

“Please, Tony…”

Stark smiled, and took the boy into his mouth, his lips and tongue now adding to the moist heat. The flat of his tongue slid along the boy's shaft and the billionaire hummed, gently, as he swallowed him, the vibrations triggering Peter’s climax. Stark felt him tense, felt his balls lurch and the boy’s hips jerk. He made a pleased noise deep in his throat and clamped his lips around the head of Peter’s cock, sucking down the cum that was spurting from Peter with each jerk of his body. Peter’s cry of completion was exciting, and Tony slid his fingers along his own cock, through the fabric of his sweats, just enjoying the sensation.

When Peter finally came down from his climax, Tony spent a few moments with his head bent over the boy’s lap, licking and cleaning, before he finally placed a tender kiss on the head and moved away.

He got off the bed, entirely, and covered Peter, chastely. Then leaned over and kissed him, full on the lips. Stark’s tongue slid along the boys closed lips, teasing and playing, until Peter relaxed just a little, and opened his mouth to the demanding touch. Tony chuckled into the boy’s mouth, and after a moment, released him and leaned back, with only a hand on the bed, bracing himself.

“Open your eyes and look at me, Peter.”

The boy did what he was told, his doe brown eyes wide with wonder and lust.

“Hey, Tony…”

Stark smiled. God, he was adorable.

“Hey, Peter. You okay?”

“What? Oh… yeah. No… I’m. I’m fine. _Great_.”

“Don’t freak out on me, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. So did I.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m going to go make breakfast. Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“How do you like your eggs?”

“What?”

Tony chuckled. God, he was delicious. And now that he’d had a taste of him, Tony wanted so much more. But he could wait. A little while, anyway.

“Your _eggs_ , Peter. Should I scramble them?”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s fine. Whatever you want to do.”

“Relax a while,” Tony told him, brushing another kiss against the boy's cheek and gathering up the supplies from the bandage change. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Okay.”

Stark left, and Peter watched him go, his heart still racing and his head spinning. There was no way he wasn't in the middle of a wet dream or something. He _had_ to be. He looked down at himself, his mostly flaccid penis still slightly damp with Tony’s saliva and shook his head.

That was amazing.


	5. 5

Peter was aroused again when Tony returned to the guest room carrying a tray a short time later. Stark wasn't surprised and he hid his amusement, saving the boy’s modesty by ignoring the tenting of the blankets as he settled the tray across Peter’s lap, covering him. The boy seemed to appreciate it. His smile was still a bit embarrassed and his porcelain cheeks were an appealing rose.

“Breakfast,” Tony told him, with a flourish and a wink. “Hungry?”

“ _Starving_.”

Which made Stark frown, even though it had only been a figure of speech. He eyes lingered on the too prominent ribs and the gaunt cheeks. Luckily, Peter didn’t notice. He was eyeing his breakfast with anticipation. Eggs scrambled with chopped ham, hash browns, sausages and wedges of oranges to garnish the plate. There was also a glass of orange juice.

“We’ll fix that,” Tony said, making Peter look up at him.

“You’re not eating?”

“Yes. Do you mind if I join you?”

“No. That’d be great.”

Stark smiled, pleased by the sincerity in the boy’s voice and expression. True to his word, he didn't seem to be freaking out about what had happened, earlier. Which was a good thing. Especially since Tony wanted more. Just not at that moment.

“I’ll be right back.”

He went into the kitchen and made himself a tray, gathering his breakfast as well as a pot of coffee, and carried it into the guest room. A minute later, he was sitting next to the boy, propped up by pillows and his tray over his lap, as well, pouring a cup of coffee and watching as Peter started eating. He smiled, pleased by the satisfied noises that the boy was making as he made his way through the meal.

“Don’t eat too fast,” Tony warned him. “The doctor said you should probably have a lot of smaller meals throughout the day until we get you used to eating regularly, again, so there’s no rush. Alright? Better to eat it slowly and keep it down.”

“It’s good.”

“Thank you.”

He turned his attention to his own meal, which wasn't quite as substantial as the one he’d set in front of Peter. He had every intention of getting a little meat on the kid while he had him stuck in bed. Beyond that, well, they would have to discuss it – later, when Peter wasn't quite at the disadvantage that he was, just then. But there was no way in hell the boy was going back to living the way that he had been. Not if Tony had anything to say about it – and he _always_ had something to say about everything.

Peter finished before Tony, even though he’d been given more food, and the sigh that escaped his lips when he leaned back into the pillows was as satisfied as Tony had ever heard.

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Did you get enough?”

“I’ll burst if I try to eat another bite.”

“We don’t want that.”

Stark sipped his coffee, finishing his breakfast at a leisurely pace.

“What are you going to do with me?” Peter asked, suddenly. His voice was tense, as if he was afraid to hear the answer, and when the billionaire turned to look at him, he looked nervous. “I mean… are you going to turn me in?”

“No.” Tony set his coffee down. “The plan right now is to get you healthy and back on your feet. Even if I thought that social services was the right way to go with you, _they_ wouldn’t be able to take care of you the way that I can. They have a shitload of kids who need their attention. _I_ happen to only have _one_ , at the moment, and so as long as you’re willing, you’ll stay here and I’ll nurse you back to health.”

“And then?”

“We’ll see.” Stark shrugged. “Whatever happens, it’s not going to be something that _I_ decide, okay, Peter? _We_ will figure it out. _Together_. I definitely think that you’re old enough to have a say in what happens to you, but you’re way too young to be living on your own. I’m not going to let that continue. Fair?”

“Yes.”

He heard relief in that single word, and it made him smile.

“Done?” he asked, gesturing to the tray.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“Hold my coffee, will you?”

Tony handed the boy his cup, and moved his tray so he could get up. He stacked his tray on top of Peter’s and left the guest room, carrying them to the kitchen. He’d clean them later. Right now, he wanted to learn more about the boy than what he’d discovered looking him up the evening before. Without asking, he reclaimed his spot next to Peter in the bed, taking his coffee back with a smile of thanks.

“So…” he turned toward the boy, sitting cross-legged on top of the blankets, his intense gaze focused just on Peter for the moment. “I’ve seen the videos, and we both know they’re aren’t doctored. Care to tell me how you do what you do?”

Peter looked afraid, and the billionaire thought that he might refuse. He didn’t press, though, and after a long hesitation, the boy nodded.

“It was a _field trip_ ,” he started, looking down at his hands, which were in his lap. “We were checking out a research lab…”

Over the course of the next half hour, in halting, uncertain words, Peter told him everything. He didn’t hold back to make himself look less childish, or selfish, and long before he got to the part where May and Ben had been killed because he’d refused to step up and help, tears were rolling silently down his cheeks. It wasn't a story that he’d had an opportunity to tell anyone, and while it was scary to tell, it also was a relief, knowing that someone else would know his biggest secret – and his biggest shame.

“So, basically, I brought all this down on myself,” he admitted, refusing to look at the man who was watching him – even if he could have seen him through the tears that were blinding him. “If I hadn’t hesitated, May and Ben would be alive, and I wouldn’t be alone. I _deserve_ it.”

He felt Stark shift and found himself gathered into his arms and held. Felt Tony tuck him under his chin.

“You don’t deserve anything that happened, Peter,” the billionaire told him. “Believe me. If anyone knows about paying for the mistakes we make, it’s me. Since I’m the authority on the need for redemption, I can tell you without hesitation that while it’s right to try and atone for the perceived wrongs we commit, it’s not the universe that punishes us. It’s _us_.”

Peter was lost in the feeling of being held. Of being supported after so long without either. He had to lift his head, though, and look at Tony.

“I don’t understand…” he admitted.

“Because it’s way over our heads,” Stark assured him, wiping Peter’s cheeks with his thumbs and leaning down to kiss him, tenderly. “For now; this is your takeaway. You can’t control what the guy that killed your aunt and uncle did – so that isn’t _your_ fault. You don’t _deserve_ anything terrible that happens, and you’re _not_ alone and never will be again, if I have anything to say about it. Got that?”

“Yeah.”

Whether he _believed_ it or not was another matter, and not one that Peter was feeling up to facing, just then.

“You should probably get some sleep,” Tony told him, not showing any inclination to release him, just then.

“You’ll stay with me?” Peter asked, unable to keep himself from tightening the hold he had on the older man.

“Sure.”

But not in the awkward position that he was in, just then. He stretched out beside the boy – still on the _top_ of the blankets, thank you very much, since being under them with the naked boy would have required someone with a lot more willpower than Tony had – and opened his arms, allowing Peter to sidle up against him in whatever position would cause his leg the least amount of pain. The boy sighed as his head found Stark’s shoulder and his arm draped across his stomach, his hand splayed just above the waistband of his sweats.

“I’m a wreck, Tony,” he murmured.

The billionaire chuckled, and sifted his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“We _all_ are, kid. Believe me. Some just hide it better than others. Go to sleep.”

Worn out, Peter did as he was told and was soon dozing, his breath warm and moist against Tony’s neck. Stark debated getting up, now that he had the boy asleep again, but he didn’t. He was warm, and he was in a good position – although it would have been better if Peter’s hand was _just_ a little lower. Instead, he stayed where he was, and worked out designs in his head for his newest suit. Napping, himself, off and on as the morning progressed.

It wasn't something that he normally did, but the company was good. Peter wasn't the only one who thought they had a monopoly on being lonely, after all.


	6. 6

Stark woke Peter with another pain pill, and another meal on a tray resting over his lap. While Peter made his way through a couple of sandwiches and a bowl of soup, Tony told him a slightly edited version of his _own_ history. Some of it Peter already knew, of course, because it was part of the sensationalism that came with being Ironman and having a superhero right out in the open for the public to admire.

But there were a lot of reasons _behind_ the events that the public knew about, and since the boy had been so straightforward with him, it was only fair to reciprocate and share some of those reasons with him – even though they didn’t always cast the billionaire in the best of lights, either. By the time Peter was done eating, he knew more about Tony Stark than most people did, and the older man was ready to switch the focus of the topic from himself over to the boy, once more.

“Let’s check and make sure my doctoring is holding up,” Tony said, moving the tray off Peter’s lap and pulling the blankets back to expose the leg.

He almost expected the boy to hesitate, but was pleased when he didn’t.

Both of them leaned over to look, and Tony touched the area around the bandages, looking up into those gorgeous brown eyes, looking for any indication of discomfort. He didn’t see any pain, but he _did_ find those eyes watching him with what could only be described as a hunger.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah. But I don’t think it’s the _bandage_. I think it’s just the leg.”

“If it gets unbearable, tell me,” Stark said, slipping a finger carefully under the bandages to see if it felt too tight.

“You could blow on it,” Peter suggested, reddening when Tony looked back at him, eyebrow raised. “Like you did this morning, I mean… it felt _good_. It made it not hurt so much.”

Stark felt a thrill go through him, but he schooled his expression to not look too excited. No sense scaring the boy – or inhibiting him, for that matter. Besides, he was taking a risk, and Tony was more than willing to reward the courage to ask for what he wanted. Even if it was indirectly.

“You liked it when I… blew on it?”

“Yes.”

The billionaire slid his hand from the inured thigh up a little higher, brushing his fingertips against Peter’s already hardening penis. The boy sucked in a deep breath and the organ in Tony’s hand swelled.

“Do you like _this_ , too, Peter?” he asked, softly, stroking his hand along the length of the boy.

“Yeah.”

“What do you want me to do, Peter?”

“You know.”

“I _do_.” Stark smiled. “But I want you to say it. You say it, and I’ll _do_ it.”

“Tony… _please_ …”

The boy was brilliant red, now; a combination of desire and embarrassment.

“Say it, Peter…”

“I _can’t_.”

The billionaire slid his thumb along the head of Peter’s cock, precum already making itself felt, dribbling from the slit and slicking Tony’s fingers.

“Sure you can. Tell me what you want me to do…”

“Tony…”

He took pity on him – to a point.

“I’ll tell you what… I’ll say it, you _repeat_ it… okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I love what you’re doing, Tony…”

“ _I love what you're doing, Tony_ ,” the boy echoed, his eyes closing in bliss and his hips shifting in time with Stark’s motions.

“Don’t stop…”

_“Don’t stop.”_

“Suck my cock, Tony…”

_“Suck my cock, Tony.”_

“ _Fuck_ _me_ , Tony…”

“Fuck me, To-“

Peter opened his eyes, realizing what he’d said, and Stark chuckled.

“Say it, Peter. _Fuck me, Tony_ …”

“Fuck me, Tony.”

Tony smiled and bent over the boy’s lap and took him in his mouth, his tongue already lapping up the precum and searching for more. Peter moaned in approval, and tentatively put his hand on the back of Stark’s head, his fingers curling in the billionaire’s hair as Tony bore down on him, swallowing him completely, using every trick he knew to give Peter as much pleasure as he could, as quickly as he could. He didn't want to prolong anything and maybe allow Peter to hurt his leg. He was already addicted to the noises the boy made when he was excited, though; they were music to his ears.

Not surprisingly, Peter didn’t last long, and he was grunting as his cock unloaded into Tony’s mouth only a few minutes after Stark had begun. Tony finished him off, and then moved up on him, his mouth seeking Peter’s in a kiss that gave the boy a chance to experience what his own cum tasted like smeared on the billionaire’s tongue and lips.

He was pleasantly surprised when Peter’s hands roamed his body, sliding along his shoulders and then his sides, even sliding under his shirt to feel bare skin.

Tony pulled away, pressing a few butterfly kisses against the corner of the boy's mouth and smiling at how satiated he looked. And he’d only had a _blow job_! He couldn’t even imagine the expression he’d be wearing after a night of hot and heavy fucking.

“Did it help?” he asked Peter.

“What?”

Stark chuckled, again, and kissed the boy’s neck and chin, his tongue leaving wet stripes as he licked the tender flesh there.

“How does your thigh feel?”

“I can’t feel it, at all.”

“Then you were right; I made it feel _better_.”

Peter smiled.

“Yeah.”

“If you eat all your dinner tonight, maybe I’ll make it feel better, again, this evening.”

“Yeah?”

“If you’re okay with it.”

“ _Seriously_?”

“Yes. But practice _saying_ it, because you have to ask me tonight, and _I’m_ not going to help you.”

Stark eased himself away from Peter’s lap, careful not to jar him, and he covered him back up. Much as he really enjoyed the idea of the boy simply being naked and exposed for him to look at him any time he wanted to, Peter was decidedly malnourished, and as such, he was susceptible to being cold. The room’s ambient temperature – no matter how warm – wouldn’t be enough to keep him getting chilled, especially with an injury, and the billionaire wouldn’t risk him just to satisfy his own voyeuristic desires.

The boy hesitated, seeing the swelling in the front of the sweats Tony was wearing, proof that he’d been excited by what they were doing.

“What…?” he blushed. “What about the _rest_? What you had me _say_ , I mean?”

“I just wanted to hear you _say_ it, Peter,” Tony said, feeling his cock twitch at the thought of claiming Peter for his own. “You’re not up for that, yet.”

Although _Tony_ most certainly was.

>><><><>>>>>><< 

Peter spent the rest of the afternoon in bed watching movies and napping off and on during them. He wasn’t always alone. Tony had taken the day off, but he _did_ need to make a coupe of calls for work, and there were dishes to be done from breakfast and lunch, both. But he had time to spend with Peter, too. It wouldn’t be right to tell him he was important and then abandon him to a television companion, after all.

In between the dishes and the phone calls, he needed to start dinner, which was going to be a stir fry. Not hard to _make_ , but a lot of prep work; chopping, peeling and slicing, as well as getting the leftover chicken from dinner the night before into the perfect sized chunks.

But he check on the boy frequently, as the afternoon wore on. If Peter was asleep, he’d watch him sleep for a while, wondering why he felt such an instant connection to him – which was unusual for Tony Stark, who didn’t connect well with _anyone_.

If he was _awake_ when he’d look in on him, Tony would come sit on the edge of the bed and tease him, gently, about whatever he might be watching – especially if it was a chick-flick – or would fuss over him, making sure that he wasn't hurting and didn’t need a painkiller, or didn’t need help to the bathroom.

Sometimes he’d flip the blankets back again – just for a few minutes – and would slide his fingers along the boy’s uninjured thigh, just to watch him blush. Which he did. Every time. That would amuse Stark, who would cover him up, again, warmly, and then press a soft kiss against his cheek before getting up to go finish a task.

Each time Peter would smile at him; that soft, wonderful smile and those hopelessly adorable eyes would sparkle with happiness at the attention, and _Tony_ would feel a flutter of happiness, too. He’d go work on whatever it was that needed doing, but would invariably return to the guest room – just to see what the boy was up to.

All in all, not the worst of ways to pass an afternoon.


	7. 7

“This is _good_.”

“Yeah? Thanks.”

“You _really_ made it?” Peter asked, looking down at the plate of stir-fry. It also held a side of noodles, since Tony wanted to load the boy with more carbs than the main dish afforded. “You don’t have a chef or something out in the kitchen cooking?”

Stark smiled.

“Nope. Cooking is one of my lesser known abilities. Save the world, come home and make a quiche. The secret life of _Ironman_.”

It was Peter’s turn to smile.

“Exciting.”

Tony rolled his eyes, and gestured to Peter’s plate.

“It’s better when it’s warm. Eat.”

Peter turned most of his attention to the meal, gladly, but still was very much aware of the man beside him. _Ironman_. He couldn’t help but be simply blown away by the fact that he was sitting in bed, eating dinner so casually beside Tony Stark, who was willing to tease him and joke with him so nonchalantly about him being an honest to god superhero. Even more crazy – and exciting – was the fact that Peter had spent the half hour that Tony had been making dinner trying to practice how to ask the man to suck his cock.

Those exact words. He blushed, even as Tony told him about maybe letting him get up to look around the rest of the apartment since he’d been asleep when they’d carried him up there. He felt himself getting hard, thinking about how good – good wasn't even the _word_ , really; what he’d felt when Tony had sucked him off transcended good like a phoenix might transcend a pigeon. But it had been that and more.

And he’d done it _twice_. And would do it again after they ate. Would just pull the blankets back and bend his head over Peter’s lap and would-

“Peter?”

He started, torn from his own waking wet dream, and looked over at Tony.

“Sorry. _What_?”

The billionaire’s expression was amused, and Peter blushed, hoping he couldn’t tell what he’d been thinking. Luckily the tray and the blankets were covering the real evidence of those thoughts.

“I asked if you’d like me to show you around the apartment, later.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course. Thanks.”

Stark’s smile grew, and the intense look in his eyes told Peter that the older man knew _exactly_ where his mind had been. His next words proving it.

“Eat your dinner. Every bite, though, right?”

“Yes.”

Peter turned his attention back to the meal in front of him, and while they ate Tony told him about the newest Ironman suit that he was working on – which was interesting enough to pull his thoughts from the upcoming main event of the evening – at least as far as _Peter_ was concerned.

>><><><<< 

“I made a cake for dessert,” Stark told Peter, hiding his amusement as the boy watched him toy with the last few bites of his dinner. Peter had finished before him; either because he’d been hungry – which was probably true, regardless – or because he was a horny, eager teen who was really looking forward to having more of the same attentions Tony had given him earlier. Either way, Stark had slowed his own pace down a bit, just to watch the boy squirm while waiting for _him_ to finish eating, as well. “Do you want a slice?”

“What kind?”

“White cake, vanilla bean frosting.”

“Later,” Peter said. “I probably couldn’t finish it, right now.”

Despite the doctor’s orders, Tony had been giving the boy pretty big portions, so that was understandable. He didn’t do things little, after all.

“It’ll be fine until you’re ready.” He moved his tray, and got out of the bed, then stacked his tray on Peter’s and moved them, not at all surprised to see the tenting in Peter’s lap. He ignored it – although he did lean over and brush a quick kiss against the boy’s lips. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

Peters eyes were bright with anticipation when Tony returned to the guest room, and the older man sat down on the edge of the bed, deciding to put him out of his misery.

“You have something to ask me?” he asked, bluntly, his own eyes amused as he waited for the boy’s reaction.

Sure enough, those porcelain cheeks reddened, brilliantly.

“Yes.” Stark waited, patiently, and Peter swallowed. “WillyousuckmycockpleaseTony?”

It came out in a rush and so strung together that it actually took Tony a moment to separate the words and decide what he’d been asked. And he was used to handling data instantly through the Ironman AI! He chuckled, and debating just for a moment making Peter say it again, slower, but he didn’t. Instead he nodded, leaned in and kissed the boy, pleased that he’d been brave enough – or desperate enough – to actually say the words.

“Absolutely.”

He pulled the blankets back, revealing Peter’s fully aroused and very eager cock, and slid his hand along the boy’s leg as he kissed him, again. This time, however, he allowed his tongue to nudge those delicious lips, gently urging Peter to open them. After a moment, he did, and Tony slowly explored his mouth, leaning in and using the motion to press Peter backward against the pillows. While he kissed him, silently teaching the boy how to return the kiss, he shifted his body, moving until he was between Peter’s legs on the bed, moving the blankets further until they were well out of the way and it was only Peter under him, now, when he finally broke the kiss.

The boy moaned softly when Tony moved over him, brushing Peter’s cock with the front of his sweats, allowing his own aroused cock to press into the boy’s, only the fabric of Tony’s sweatpants keeping the two from touching directly. Tony groaned, too, though, at the sensation and moved away, bending his head and running his tongue along the head of Peter’s throbbing, anxious cock.

“Yes… right _there_ , Tony…” Peter murmured, and Stark felt the boy’s hand on the back of his head.

He smiled to himself and ran his tongue along Peter’s shaft, teasing and tracing the contours of the young man’s arousal before finally drawing him into his mouth and slowly enclosing him in its moist heat, the flat of his tongue tasting every inch.

Peter made his approval known without words; his hand tightened on Tony’s head, his cock swelled, and his hips jerked of their own volition. Tony chuckled, and the vibrations against Peter’s sensitive flesh only made him whimper with pleasure.

Making sure that he wasn't touching the injured leg in a spot that would cause any discomfort, Tony went to work on Peter, giving him everything he had been brave enough to ask for. He licked him, he sucked him, he alternated between the two and sometimes did both at the same time. He released him completely and then turned his attention to the boy’s testicles, rolling them individually into his mouth and then sucking both at once, his tongue lapping at them while his hands came to Peter’s bony hips to hold him still when the boy started bucking in response.

Finally, he swallowed the boy’s cock and squeezed his throat around the head, humming and moving just right, and it was all that it took to set him off. Peter groaned and his entire being tensed, warning Tony in time to pull back to allow himself the chance to catch the cum that was suddenly flooding his mouth as the boy released with a cry that he couldn’t have choked back for anything.

Tony fondled Peter’s sensitive balls, milking them as he suckled the boy, urging him to give him everything that he had until Peter finally collapsed into the pillows, spent and trembling. Tony made a few more passes over the head of Peter’s cock with the flat of his tongue, and then moved to kiss him, again, his eyes locked on Peter’s incredulous ones.

“You did so good,” Stark murmured against his lips. “ _So_ good, Peter.”

“Yeah…?”

He was breathless, and panting, his chest rising and falling under Tony’s hand.

“Yes.” He kissed him, again, and then sat back a little, still between his thighs. “Worth asking for, I hope?”

“Yes.” He hesitated. “I could… I mean, you don’t mind if I asked again, sometime?”

Which was exactly what Tony wanted to hear.

“I think I could live with that.” He looked down between them. Peter was still deflating, caught in that in between of hard as he could ever be and coming down off a mind-blowing orgasm, and the billionaire brushed his fingertips along the faltering shaft, carefully. He was well aware just how ultra-sensitive he would feel just then and the last thing he wanted to do was cause any discomfort after that. “You might want to work on slowing your delivery a little.”

The boy blushed, but he smiled, shyly – which was positively endearing, as far as Stark was concerned. He braved a look down between them, as well, just thinking how surreal it was to see anyone playing with him – much less Tony _freaking_ Stark. His eyes were drawn to the bulge in Tony’s sweats, though. Although _bulge_ wasn't really the word for it. It was pretty much the outline of the older man’s cock straining against the fabric. Large and eager and compelling.

“Can I…?” Peter gestured at Stark’s groin, and the billionaire only hesitated for a moment before nodding – and only then because he was more than aware that he wasn't the king of self control.

“Yes.”

Peter’s hand trembled only a little less than Tony did when the boy reached for the waist of his sweats and pulled on them, drawing the fabric away from Tony’s throbbing and eager erection. The moment took a definite wrong turn when Peter’s uncertain grip slipped and the elastic snapped back into place, eliciting a grimace from Tony, who closed his eyes with a soft curse at the discourteous treatment of his most tender parts.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Peter said, quickly, aghast. He reached out, his grip much firmer as he pulled the waistband back, again, and Tony chuckled at the lunacy of the situation, reaching down to avoid another inopportune snap of fabric by cupping himself as Peter slid the sweats down to free the older man’s cock and balls completely. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not too much,” Tony assured him, releasing his hold on himself and drawing Peter’s hand to his shaft while leaning in to kiss him. He groaned when he felt the boy tentatively wrap his fingers around him, sliding his palm against him with a gentle, tentative, caress. “It’s _okay_.”

Peter looked down at what he was doing, and Tony pulled back just a little to allow both of them to watch as the boy began stroking him more firmly, now.

“Should I blow on it…?” Peter asked, his beautiful eyes lit with humor and a little excitement.

Tony laughed, loving the boy right then and there, even as his cock twitched in excitement at the idea.

“You _should_ ,” he agreed. “But not right now,” Stark told him. He wanted nothing more than to drive himself deep inside the boy – either hole, or both of them – but he also wasn't going to rush things. And he wasn't going to let Peter hurt himself getting into an awkward position to pleasure him that might hurt that injury of his. “Just do what you’re doing, and forgive me for the mess I’m going to make…”

Peter nodded, turning his attention to jacking Tony off. He was a teenaged boy; this was something that he knew. He’d never done it to someone _else_ , of course, but the motions were the same, the precum drooling from the slit making the motions slicker and smoother. Then more when Tony made it even more exciting when his breathing started coming faster and he closed his eyes, whispering softly, telling Peter – or maybe just talking to _himself_ – about just how good it felt and what he wished that he was doing.

“Just like that…” Tony’s voice was harsh with excitement. “Right there… harder… I need you so much… I’m so hard for you, Peter…”

“Yes…” Peter whispered, getting excited at just how eager the older man was; how his cock was swelling even more in his palm. Stark had already told him what he’d liked hearing, earlier, and Peter was willing to try to make it better for him. “Fuck my hand, Tony… you’re so _hard_ … all for me… _Fuck_ _me_ , Tony…”

That was all it took. Stark grunted and Peter’s hand was suddenly slick with cum. The next thrust of the billionaire’s hips drove a rope of the white fluid against Peter’s belly and then another crossed his chest. Tony’s hand covered the hand Peter had on him, forcing him to stay where he was while Tony came over and over, his hips snapping, hard, as he painted the boy with his seed until he couldn’t do anything but brace himself with his free hand, his forehead resting on Peter’s collarbone, his hand still holding Peter on him.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked.

Stark nodded and took a couple of deep breaths before pulling away, and looking down at the two of them.

“Yes. Did I hurt you?” he asked, suddenly looking at the bandaged thigh, that was at an awkward angle, but with no pressure against the wound as near as he could tell.

“I’m okay,” the boy told him. “That was exciting.”

“Yeah, it was.” Tony drew back, and released Peter’s hand so he could let go of his cock. Then he carefully pulled his sweats back up over it. “Your _foreplay_ techniques need some work, though, young man.”

Peter blushed, but grinned.

“I said I was sorry. Next time you should come to bed _naked_. Then you won’t have to worry about it.”

“Don’t _tempt_ me.”

Stark got himself off the bed, legs just a little wobbly, and vanished into the bathroom. Peter heard water running, and a moment later the older man returned with a wet towel that he used to wipe the mess he’d made of Peter’s belly and chest. Then he wiped the boy’s flaccid cock, before pressing a tender kiss against the head and covering him once more with the blanket.

“Thanks, Tony.”

The billionaire smiled.

“You’re welcome. _Cake_?”

“Yeah.”


	8. 8

Peter woke with a start and a cry of fear that he couldn’t choke back. Caught in the throes of the nightmare, he moaned, softly, and closed his eyes, trembling, grasping a pillow and holding it tightly to his belly like an ungainly teddy bear.

“No…”

The agony from his leg at the motion only added to the still very vivid nightmare, and he found his breath coming in short gasps as panic overcame the softness of the bed he was in and the ambient light that was supposed to be soothing.

The light came on, but he was barely aware of it. Barely aware, too, when he was suddenly not alone in the bed and strong arms came around him, gathering him gently against a warm, willing body.

“Easy, Peter,” Tony crooned into his ear, peppering his cheek and temple with kisses while he held him, closely, trying to warm his chilled body. “I’m here…”

“I can’t breathe…”

“Sure you can.” The calm voice cut into his terror. Helped him to focus. “Take a deep breathe, honey.”

“I _can’t_.”

“Deep breath, Peter,” came the reply. Stern and loving both. Demanding to be obeyed.

Peter gasped, inhaling in a stuttering moan.

“ _Another_.”

He did as he was told. The tight bands that seemed to be constricting around his chest eased as the oxygen he was getting in each breath increased and the next breath was even steadier.

“Good…” the voice crooned with approval. “Another deep breath.”

Peter managed two. Then he realized that he wasn't alone, and he opened his eyes. And met the concerned dark gaze of Tony Stark.

“Tony…”

“Hey, Peter…” The billionaire was holding him against his bare chest, arms wrapped around his shaking form, legs tangled with his own, which made Peter vaguely aware that for the first time Tony had joined him under the blankets. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah.”

He _wasn't_ , though. He dropped his head to Tony’s chest, burying his face against the tender skin. He was so scared, still caught in the lingering images of the nightmare.

“It’s okay, Peter…” Tony cooed. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going to,” Stark assured him, drawing the blankets up over the two of them and tucking the boy’s head under his chin. “I’m right _here_.”

They’d spent the evening in bed together. Both of them wrapped in that glowing euphoria that follows an orgasm, intensified by having achieved that release with the help of the other. Tony had brought cake and with a slight smile had fed Peter’s to him bite by bite, kissing the boy approvingly every time he ate even the most modest of morsels. Peter turned on a movie, but neither really paid attention to what they were watching.

Peter was worn out. Injury and the sensation of sexual satisfaction combined with being enclosed in strong arms that were determined to comfort put him to sleep long before the movie was over. Tony had held him for a long time, but eventually he got up, covered Peter warmly and took the dishes into the kitchen, leaving the boy to his sleep.

He’d checked on him twice before he’d gone to his bed. Once after showering, and once after checking his email and phone messages. There were several that needed replies, but all of that could wait until the next day. For a change, he was a bit sleepy - thanks to a very pleasurable hand job - and he'd settled in his bed, thinking that maybe he'd catch an hours' sleep before checking on his houseguest, again. He'd had almost been asleep when FRIDAY had alerted him that something was wrong with Peter, and Tony had come running.

They were quiet for a long time; Peter clinging to him and shaking, Tony holding him and caressing his hand along the boy’s bare back. Finally, Peter seemed to slump against him, and he sighed; a mixture of embarrassment and exhaustion.

“You’re alright,” Tony told him, again, leaning down a little and kissing the top of his head. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be. Nightmares and panic attacks are pretty much run of the mill around here. We can handle them.”

“You have them?” Peter asked, sounding surprised.

“All the time.”

“How do you deal with them?”

“I drink and I don’t sleep.”

The boy snorted, softly.

“That probably won’t work for me.”

“I don’t recommend it. Do you have them often?”

“Nightmares? All the time. The panic attacks don’t come very often. But they’re _scarier_.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“You don’t have to stay with me,” Peter told him, kissing his chest. “I’ll probably be able to sleep, now. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“ _I’m_ not. Extra _cuddling_. Can’t go wrong with that, right?”

Peter smiled and closed his eyes, content in the knowledge that he was safe and protected, and too tired to keep his eyes open now that the nightmare was done. He was asleep in minutes, still enclosed in Tony’s arms. Stark shifted him just a little into a more comfortable position.

“Lights, FRIDAY,” he murmured, softly.

A moment later the room was bathed in darkness with only the light from the bathroom illuminating the pale skin of the boy Tony was holding. He drew the blankets up and allowed himself to drift off, as well.

>>><><<<><>><< 

He woke to the room washed in the pale light of dawn coming through the cracks in the shades and the delightful feeling of Peter’s hand inside his sweats, stroking his already aroused cock.

The boy must have felt the rest of him tense – he was too close not to notice – and his hand still.

“Awake?”

Tony groaned and put his hand over Peter’s, silently encouraging him to continue what he was doing.

“Yes. Good morning. How do you feel?”

Peter hadn’t left the protective confines of the billionaire’s arms.

“My leg hurts and I want to suck your cock.”

Stark snorted, amused, and he stretched beside Peter. He wondered how long the boy had been practicing to be able to say that without stammering or losing the verbal space key.

“We’ll take care of your leg.”

“And the other?”

"Say it again."

Peter only hesitated a moment.

"I want to suck on your cock, Tony."

God.

“We’ll see.”

“I’m not scared, Tony.”

“No. I can tell.”

“Then why won’t you let me try? I won’t _bite_ you, I promise.”

The kid was _killing_ him.

“I’m not worried about that. If we can find a comfortable way for you to try it, later, without hurting yourself, I’ll let you. Okay?”

“Oh.” It was obvious that Peter hadn’t thought about maybe hurting _himself_ in the attempt. “Yeah. Okay.”

The older man pulled Peter’s hand from his sweats with regret, and then released his hold on the boy completely and got up. He was hard, but it was pleasant, and it made him hyper-aware of the brush of fabric against his cock as he moved to the side of the bed. This time as he opened the nightstand drawer for the supplies that he needed to change the bandages, it was _Peter_ who pulled the blankets back to expose himself. He was erect and not even blushing – _too much_.

Tony positioned himself between his knees – which _did_ elicit a blush and a shiver – and he smiled at the boy, equal parts amused and pleased at just how responsive Peter was to his proximity.

“Hold still.”

They both watched as he cut the bandages away, and Tony was pleased to see that what had been a raw, red wound the morning before had already scabbed over and looked better.

“It looks okay…” Peter said.

“It looks _great_ , Peter.” Tony winked, holding up the medicated wipes that had hurt the boy so much the day before. “None of these, I think.”

“Good.”

“Lots of bandages, though, to keep it from opening if you bump it or something.”

Peter watched him as he layered thick, soft pads down along the wound and then wrapped it tightly, and taped it down.

“You do good work, doctor,” the boy said, quoting a movie that was far too obscure for Stark to catch the reference.

“Thanks. Wait until you see my bill.” It pleased Tony that Peter was able to smile at the joke, and he moved the remaining supplies back to the drawer. “I’m going to make breakfast.”

“But…”

Stark looked at Peter, who had an oddly disappointed look on his face, and hid his amusement as well as he could. Clearly the boy had other things on his mind than eating, just then.

“Yes?”

“Do you _have_ to?” Peter asked. “I mean… it’s still kind of early. I’m not really hungry, just yet.”

“Did you have something _else_ in mind?” Tony asked him, and now he _did_ allow the boy to see his smile, which made Peter roll his eyes as he realized that Stark was waiting to be asked.

“Yes.” He only hesitated a moment, and the blush wasn't _quite_ as noticeable. “Will you suck on me, Tony? Please?”

“I think that’s a fine idea, Peter,” the billionaire said, bending his head.

Peter sighed and closed his eyes as Tony’s mouth closed over him, wondering what he’d done in a past life to have this be his reality, just then.


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still holding interest?

“Ready to try getting out of bed for a while?” Stark asked, once he’d finished Peter off and had gently licked the boy’s now quivering cock clean.

Peter sighed in contentment, opening his eyes and coming down off his most recent Tony Stark induced high.

“Really? Can I?”

“We’re not going to go any further than the couch,” Tony told him. “But, yeah. It probably wouldn’t hurt for you to have a change of scenery.”

“Okay. Yeah.”

“I’ll be right back.”

The billionaire left and Peter found that if he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could almost follow Tony’s progress across the apartment. Of course, since he didn’t know what rooms were which, it didn’t really matter, but it gave him a homey feeling to listen to the movements, and it settled an inner desire that he had had since he’d been cast so brutally out on his own.

It wasn't long before he heard soft footsteps once more heading to the door to the room he was in, and he opened his eyes and saw Tony return, carrying a small bundle, which he handed to Peter.

The boy saw that there was a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved t-shirt.

“They’re mine,” Tony warned him, standing at the edge of the bed. “So they aren’t going to fit. But baggy clothing is better than no clothing. Well… in _this_ instance, it is. I _personally_ prefer you _naked_.”

Peter smiled and pulled the shirt on easily enough. Moving to get the pajamas on wasn't quite as easy, and he winced when he jarred the injured thigh. Stark moved to help him, first sitting him upright on the edge of the bed and then pulling him carefully to his feet, where the boy leaned on Tony, who pulled the pants on and then tied the drawstring to keep them from sliding off his bony hips.

“Thanks.”

Stark slid his arms around Peter’s waist, his hands slipping under the pajamas to cup his ass and pull him up against his pelvis – and his semi-erect penis.

“My _pleasure_.” Peter felt a shiver run through him that had nothing to do with being chilled, but it drew Tony’s attention from his own less than pure thoughts and back to what he was doing. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you settled.”

He took the injured side, supporting Peter’s negligible weight as the boy shuffled his way out of the guestroom and into the living room, getting his first view of the apartment that Stark called home.

“Wow…”

Tony stopped, giving him a chance to look around from the doorway. The apartment was – _not_ surprisingly – large and luxurious. The main room was a combination of living room and dining room and the hardwood floor was big enough to be a basketball court. Windows lined the entire far wall from floor to ceiling, giving an amazing view of the city that stretched on forever it seemed to Peter. At the moment, most of them were shaded completely, muting the morning sunshine. There was a huge flat TV on the wall, with a plush leather sofa facing it. There were blankets and pillows on it, as well as the normal cushions Peter would usually expect. A coffee table and a smaller couch of the same color and fabric also furnished that area of the room. A small dining room table was against a pair of the windows, with four chairs surrounding it. There was an ultra-modern kitchen, all marble, steel and copper. There was an island that had a range built into it and a couple of bar stools tucked into cleverly designed alcoves, and a wall of appliances; dishwasher, huge refrigerator, another oven and a sink that was probably big enough for Peter to bathe in.

“Be it ever so _humble_ …” Stark said with a shrug. “The bathroom is that way, and that door goes to my bedroom.”

“It’s nice.”

“Thank you. I would take credit for it, but FRIDAY did all the decorating, based on my preferences and hobbies. Which reminds me; FRIDAY? Activate _Welcome Wagon_ protocol.”

_“Activated. Waiting for voice verification.”_

Stark smiled.

“Say your full name for her, please.”

“Oh. Um. Peter Benjamin Parker.”

“ _Confirmed_.”

“You now have access to my AI. In case you need more than just to let her know you need me.”

“Like what?” Peter asked as Tony moved, walking him over to the sofa and easing him down into it.

“Anything. House controls; temp, lights, shading on the window and door locks, to start. You want the TV on? Now you can have FRIDAY do it, or use the remote – whichever is easiest. She is also interfaced into my phone, my watch and every other aspect of my life, so you can simply tell her to call me if I’m not here, and she will.”

_“Cool.”_

“She will not make you _breakfast_ , however,” Stark told him, leaning over and bundling the boy in the blanket and then propping the injured leg up, the foot going onto the coffee table in front of him. “That’s _my_ job.”

“Can I help?”

“No. For one thing, I don’t want you on that leg any more than necessary. For another, can you even _cook_?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“For _example_ …?”

“Macaroni and cheese? Spaghetti. Anything out of a can.”

Stark rolled his eyes, and leaned down once more to kiss Peter, softening his criticism.

“Then you can be in charge of dinner if we have any three-year-olds over. Otherwise, _I’ll_ take care of the cooking. Fair?”

The boy nodded, not at all offended. He was well aware that his culinary skills weren’t on par with his wall climbing abilities.

“Yeah.”

“Rest, okay?” Tony told him, tucking the blanket around the boy a little more. “Breakfast won’t be long.”

“What are you making?”

“Crepes. Normally they would be strawberry, but that’s completely off the table in your case, so they will feature _blackberries_ , instead. How are you with whipped cream?”

“I like it.”

“Good.”

The room was situated so that Peter only had to turn his head to be able to watch as Stark went into the kitchen and started pulling ingredients out of the fridge and mixing bowls and small appliances from various cupboards. He leaned his cheek against the cool leather of the sofa and watched, admiring the man himself much more than what he was doing – which was pretty much a mystery to him.

“A crepe is a pancake?”

“A thin one,” Tony confirmed, not looking up from what he was doing. “Then it’s usually – but not always – wrapped around something else.”

“Like a _burrito_?”

Stark frowned, looking over at him, and then shrugged.

“Sure. More like the _tortilla_ , though – only sweeter. You fill it with what you like the most. I like fruits and cream cheese, or whipped cream, but it can have veggies or meats in it if you prefer the savory route. Which we can try another time if you’re interested. _Today_ , it’s blackberries and whipped cream.”

“Whatever you want.”

Peter wasn't hard to please on the best of days, really, and he was certainly not going to complain if Tony wanted to make him something that sounded so good. The boy fell silent, watching as Tony worked his way through the kitchen, smoothly, humming to himself and obviously enjoying the preparation of the meal. He was clearly having a good time. The boy closed his eyes and drifted off, relaxed to the point of sleepiness by the domestic scene in front of him.

>><>><>>>><< 

“Wake up, honey…”

He opened his eyes to Tony’s amused gaze; the billionaire crouched down beside his position on the sofa so he could be at eye level. Peter raised his head from the back of the sofa, sleepily.

“I feel asleep?”

“Mmm-hmm. And you can go right _back_ to sleep, as soon as you’ve eaten.”

The boy sat up and saw that the coffee table in front of them was now loaded with a platter stacked with little pancake burritos, stuffed with a dark blue filling and topped with more of it. There was a bowl of whipped cream and two plates, and he saw that there was another plate filled with sausages. It smelled as amazing as it looked, and his stomach growled, appreciatively.

He moved his foot off the table with a little help, getting it out of the way and also making it easier for him to get closer to the food.

“It smells great.”

“Thank you. Milk or orange juice?”

“Milk.”

Stark went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of milk that he set in front of Peter, and a cup of coffee for himself.

“Dig in before they get cold.”

Peter did as he was told, taking an empty plate and loading it with a few of the crepes and then covering them in whipped cream and stabbing a few sausages. Tony waited until he’d established himself with his meal, and then did the same with his own plate. They were silent while they ate, mainly because Stark didn’t want to distract the boy from his breakfast, preferring that he fill himself up, first.

When he was done, Tony cleared everything but his cup of coffee and then sat down next to Peter, once more.

“I need to go in to the office for a few hours, today. Will you be alright here, alone?”

Peter hesitated. Not because he was afraid to be alone – he’d been alone a lot the past few months, and while he hated the idea of being by himself, again, he wasn't afraid – but because he wasn't sure if he should stay there without Tony being there.

“I could go to the library or something,” he suggested. “Until you get back.”

“No. Even if I wanted to risk your thigh letting you move around, I want you to stay here, where you’re safe. And comfortable. I just need to know if you’re okay with the idea, or if you’d like me to have someone come keep you company.”

“I don’t need someone to stay.”

“FRIDAY will be here if you do need anything. You can spend the morning on the sofa and watch TV or sleep. Whatever you want to do. I won’t be gone any longer than I have to be – and I wouldn’t go at _all_ if not for a meeting I have to attend.”

“I’ll be okay,” Peter told him, reacting to the sincerity in Tony’s expression. He really _didn’t_ want to leave – and not because he was afraid Peter was going to steal the silverware while he was gone. “You won’t be gone long?”

“No longer than I have to be.”

“And when you come _home_ , I can try to suck you?”

Tony felt a shiver of excitement go through him at the thought, and he smiled at the boy’s dogged determination. He wanted to try and wasn't going to stop pestering him until Tony let him. Probably the engineer or scientist in the kid. He found a puzzle, or something he wanted to try and now he was determined.

Who was Tony to stand in the way of personal discovery?

He nodded, taking the boy’s hand and pressing it against his groin, closing his eyes for just a moment, and making a pleased noise when Peter traced the length of him through the fabric of his pajamas.

“Yes. You can suck me when I come home.”


	10. 10

“You’re in a good mood…”

Tony turned to Pepper, who had walked up to him and nodded, unable to hide it – and really, he had no reason to bother.

“I _am_.”

“Feeling alright?”

He smirked.

“I’m not allowed to be in a _good_ mood?”

“You _are_ ,” she corrected. “I’m just not used to it. New project?”

That was usually the only thing that made him happy; working in his workroom or lab, fixing something, or building something.

“You might say that,” Stark agreed, with a genuine smile. “Yes.”

“Well, good. Are you ready for this meeting?”

“Of course.”

He was _there_ , after all. Even though he’d _much_ rather be at home, with Peter. Giving the boy a chance to open his pants and pull out-

“Tony?”

He pulled himself from his thoughts, looking over at her.

“Yeah?”

“We’re ready.”

“I’ll be right there.” He turned, looking out the window in the hallway outside of the boardroom. “FRIDAY? What’s Peter doing?”

The AI replied immediately, softly speaking into his ear from the glasses that he was wearing.

“ _Sleeping_.”

“Is he alright?”

“ _Yup_.”

“Tell me when he wakes up, will you?”

“ _Will do_.”

Cheered, Stark turned and went into the boardroom, also, taking his place to the right of Pepper, and tried to focus on what was being said, rather than who was sleeping on his sofa, just then.

>>><><><><>>> 

He didn’t receive the notification.

When Stark returned home a few hours later, Peter was still asleep on his sofa. He was on his back, sprawled comfortably, bundled in the comforter with his head and upper body supported by a few cushions and pillows. His injured leg was propped up on a pillow, raising it out from under the blanket. The TV was off, but there was soft music playing in the background, and there was an open and mostly empty bottle of cola on the coffee table, proof that he’d managed to get himself as far as the fridge at some point that morning.

Tony watched him sleep as he took off his suit jacket, enjoying the sight in front of him. Peter looked so peaceful, just then. Not like a boy who had been trying to survive on his own for the past three months or so. He couldn’t resist the urge to brush his fingers along his porcelain cheek, his thumb tracing the too prominent cheekbone as his finger slid along his jaw.

Peter stirred at the touch, as Tony privately hoped that he would, opened those gorgeous, soft eyes, and looked up at him, sleepily. And smiled.

“You’re home?”

Tony nodded.

“Yeah. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay…” he replied, owlishly, absently reaching for the hand that was still touching his face and capturing it in his own. “Sleepy.”

“Go back to sleep for a while, then.”

“Will you stay with me?”

“Let me change into something that isn’t a suit and a tie, and I’ll join you.”

The boy nodded and let go of his hand, closing his eyes, again, and Stark went into his bedroom and changed into a pair of sweats, deciding that since he didn’t have anywhere else he needed to be that day, he was done.

“FRIDAY, all calls to voicemail and if anyone asks, I’m not home,” the billionaire said as he walked into his bathroom to wash his face.

_“You got it.”_

Peter was sitting up when Tony returned to the living room, but he still leaned a little. Stark moved a pillow and simply took the spot beside him, pulling the boy back down and playing pillow for him, now.

“Did you have a good morning?” Peter asked him, stretching a little.

“I had a meeting I couldn’t miss. It was dull and I would much rather have stayed home.”

The older man pulled Peter’s shirt up, baring his stomach and chest, and slid his hand along the boy’s smooth skin, teasing his nipples, idly, and enjoying the way Peter shivered at the contact. This wasn't the same as being cold, after all.

“At least it wasn't an all day meeting…”

“True.” His hand slid under the pajama bottoms and he wasn't surprised that the boy was already becoming aroused. “Feels good?”

“Yes.” Peter closed his eyes, giving himself up to what Tony was doing to him. “I get to play with _you_ , too. Don’t forget.”

Tony chuckled; he’d been thinking about it all morning. But now he had his fingers wrapped around the boy’s cock, stroking him.

“Me, first,” he said, easing Peter off his lap and sliding out from under him, replacing his body with the cushions to prop him upright. “Watch what I do, this time, and see if it’s something you want to try with me.”

He had ended up on his knees beside the couch, so all he needed to do was pull down the front of the pajamas to free the boy’s now throbbing cock. Rather than immediately swallow him like he might have, this time he spent a lot of time licking the head, and then the shaft, using his tongue to tease the underside of the head and then to work his way down to the boy’s testicles, which he rolled in his mouth and played with as well. Only when Peter was panting and mewling with desire did he finally bring the head into his mouth to suckle and enjoy, and – not surprisingly – Peter climaxed after only a few minutes of that. He groaned a warning, Tony’s hand came to his shaft to keep him where he wanted him, and the boy exploded into his mouth.

Stark made an approving noise as he lapped at Peter’s shaft, clearing him off, and then sucked him into his mouth once more to release him with a wet pop before looking up at the boy, who was watching with hooded eyes; utterly satiated, but also fascinated. It was one of the most interesting expressions Tony could ever remember seeing on someone.

“Well?”

“What, um… what does it taste like…?”

The billionaire chuckled and moved up and kissed Peter, his tongue immediately demanding and receiving access to the boy's mouth. He slid his tongue along Peter's  and then stilled, waiting for the boy to figure out what he was doing. And was pleased when it only took a moment for him to do so. His tongue traced along Tony’s, and then slid into his mouth, testing and tasting himself on the older man’s tongue and lips. He sighed into the boy’s mouth when he felt Peter’s hand hesitantly slide into the front of his sweats and groaned when the boy took hold of him, but didn’t break the kiss.

They separated only when Peter was breathless and had to lean back, and the boy’s chocolate eyes met Tony’s, his hand still moving, slowly, making its presence felt.

“Well?” Stark asked. “You don’t _have_ to, you know? What you’re doing right now will set me off, and I’d be fine.”

For now, anyway.

“No.” Peter smiled. “It’s not fair that you suck on me and all _I_ do is a _hand job.”_

“I don’t mind.”

“I meant; it’s not fair to _me_.”

Tony chuckled and pulled Peter’s hand from his pants before pulling away from him and standing up. God, he was cheeky, too. Get the kid some weight and some stability in his life, and the billionaire couldn’t wait to see the personality underlying that young exterior.

“Sit up and turn this way,” he said, helping him keep the leg from bumping anything as Peter turned on the sofa and sat upright, parting his knees so Tony could stand between them. The position put the man’s aroused cock right at eye level with the boy, and Tony reached out and carded his fingers through the boy’s soft curls. “When it happens, I want you to _swallow_ it, understood? It’s exciting to watch – and a lot less messy.”

Peter nodded, eyes going from Tony’s face to the swelling in front of him and Stark held himself still to give the boy all the time he needed. Peter didn’t make him wait, though. His hands brought the front of his sweats down, and Tony’s large cock bobbed, eagerly, demanding attention. As he watched, the boy reached for him, hand once more stroking the turgid shaft before he tentatively leaned forward and kiss the head, his lips parting just a little to allow his tongue to lick the dribble of precum that was already escaping.

“Yes…”

Peter looked up and met Tony’s eyes, surprised at the sounds of excitement so soon. Obviously completely unaware just how erotic he looked handling Tony so intimately. He smiled, suddenly a little more confident, and began kissing his way along the head, and then the shaft, working his tongue down to Stark’s testicles and using his hand to hold the heavy sack so he could roll them one at a time in his mouth before he licked his way back up toward the head.

Tony was breathless by then and couldn’t help the way he moved himself, just a little, nudging Peter’s lips with the head of his cock.

“Suck me, Peter,” he crooned. “Please.”

The boy opened his mouth and did as he asked. His hand kept him from taking more than he could handle at one time – and at first, it was just the bulbous head of Tony’s cock that he lavished his tongue and mouth on. Then he tried to take more and Tony had to exert every ounce of self-control that he possessed to stop himself from holding Peter’s head with his hands and fuck that go perfect mouth furiously.

Peter was drooling on him, now, saliva running down his chin and Tony’s shaft in equal amounts, soaking the front of the boy’s shirt and slicking Tony’s balls. His hips started moving, slowly, allowing Peter a chance to become accustomed to the motion and Tony’s fingers curled in the boy’s hair, although he was careful not to hurt him. Peter gagged himself, once, trying to take too much into him at one time, but he and the billionaire both pulled back at the same moment, giving him a chance to regain his equilibrium before he started in on Tony again.

The boy must have realized that he was getting close, because he doubled his efforts and sucked harder, making noises that were almost obscene as he slurped and lapped at the swollen flesh Tony was feeding him.

“Now…” Tony warned, his hand tightening on Peter’s head as his hips jerked forward just a little and his balls tightened a moment before he erupted.

He watched – and felt – as Peter’s lips clamped down on the head of his cock, as if to avoid anything escaping. The boy’s mouth and throat worked furiously as he swallowed him, and Stark groaned at the sensation of those muscles moving against his ultra-sensitive rod. When Tony had still with a soft expletive of satisfaction, Peter ran his tongue along the shaft, and finally the head of his cock, clearing any excess as he’d seen Stark do, and only then did he look up at the older man, almost shyly.

“Well?”

“B+,” Tony told him, running his fingers through his hair, and smiling, softly down at him.

“That’s _it_?”

“Can’t give you an A, my sweet. You gagged and could have thrown up on me.”

"Because I was trying to take more in..."

"No participation trophies here, Angel."

“It’s harder than it _looks_ …”

Tony chuckled and tucked himself back into his pants, then reclaimed his spot beside Peter on the couch.

“It just takes some practice. You did _great_.”

“ _B+_ great,” Peter grumbled, rolling his eyes, but leaning into Tony’s side as the older man put his arms around him, basking in the afterglow of a pretty good blow job.

“I enjoyed it.”

He was also enjoying the way Peter was stroking his stomach and thigh, almost possessively.

“I’ll work on it,” the boy mumbled, his face buried in Tony’s chest. “But, yeah, I _did_ almost make myself throw up, trying to get too much in at once. There’s probably a better way to handle that, and maybe a different angle...”

“Which is why we didn’t do this _after_ lunch,” Tony told him, amused at the analytical way Peter was going over their activities. “See how that works?”

Peter looked up at him and smiled.

“Makes sense.”

“Ready for lunch?”

“Yes.”


	11. 11

Despite sleeping most of the morning, Peter was tired. Worn down from his body repairing itself from not only the gunshot wound but the rough time he’d had the last few months, his system was forcing him to rest now that he was in a safe place to do it. Add in the sexual release and the endorphins that came with it, and he was almost asleep before he finished the simple meal of soup and sandwiches that Tony made them.

Peter said that he was going to go back to bed. Not that the sofa was uncomfortable – it was far better than anything that he’d ever slept on, even before he’d taken to sleeping in the library at night – but he was more comfortable where he could stretch out and the bedroom was quieter and more relaxing.

Tony helped him into the room, and Peter sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his shirt off.

“What are you doing?” the billionaire asked, as the boy untied the draw string of the pajamas and lifted himself, awkwardly, to slide _them_ off, as well.

“I like sleeping in the buff,” Peter said, blushing a little. He hadn’t _known_ that he did, until he’d done it a few times, but the satin sheets felt amazing against his skin and there was definitely a sensual quality to having nothing covering him but the bedding. “It’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, of course. You can do whatever you want,” Stark assured him.

As if he'd say no to that?

He pulled the blankets back for the boy and smiled as he eased himself under the covers.

“Can you stay with me for a while?”

“I’m going to do the dishes,” he told Peter. “Then I’ll come back and keep you company.”

Stark kissed him, though, and slid a hand along his chest and under the blankets along his stomach, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from the boy. And from himself.

“That was fun, Tony,” Peter said, closing his eyes. He was asleep enough, now, that he didn’t blush at all. “We can do it again, right?”

“Sure. Whenever you want.” The billionaire folded the pajamas and t-shirt and set them aside so Peter could find them when he was ready for them. “But not right now, okay?” he leaned over and kissed the boy’s temple. “Go to sleep.”

He nodded and did as he was told. Stark stayed there, sitting on the edge of the bed for a long moment, watching him sleep. Then he went to go do the few dishes, and start the prep needed for dinner.

>>>><<><<< 

Peter woke with a warm body beside him, tucked right up against him, a gentle hand idly caressing his shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw that Tony had joined him in the bed, lounged above the covers, propped up by a few pillows with one hand on Peter and the other sifting through his tablet, the glow of the screen soft and gentle.

The boy sighed, and nestled closer to the older man, already addicted to the feeling of being held, and being warm, and feeling safe. It had only been months, but he felt like it had been years, and he was so tired, emotionally, that it felt good to not have to be the one to make all the decisions, just then.

“Awake?” Tony asked, his hand stilling on Peter.

“Yeah.”

“How’s the leg feeling?”

“It just throbs,” Peter told him, honestly. “I’m almost getting used to it hurting all the time.”

“Or you’re getting better and it’s not bothering you as much.”

“Maybe.” The boy rolled onto his side, resting his face against Stark’s chest, his hand coming around him to hold him. “How long did I sleep?”

“A few hours. It’s good for you, the doctor says.”

“You called him?”

“Yeah. I want to make sure we’re doing everything for your leg that we can. Our job is to watch that it doesn’t open and bleed and that no red lines form from it. He’ll come check on it in a couple of days.”

“You’re going to let me stay here that long?”

Stark nodded.

“I don't see why not. It’ll give you time to heal up, and us time to figure out the next step for whatever is best for you.”

Peter started to say that _Tony_ was best for him, and froze, the statement dying on his tongue. He’d known the guy for two days; what would he think if he made some off the wall comment like that? Of course, Peter had known him a lot longer than that, Tony Stark just didn’t know it. They’d met before, but Tony wouldn’t have remembered, and Peter never would forget.

He shivered, and Stark felt it.

“Are you cold, Peter?”

“A little.”

His blankets had slid down a bit while he’d been sleeping, and then more when he’d rolled to hold onto Tony.

The billionaire pulled the blankets back up over him and pressed a little closer, arm holding him right up against his side to share his body heat.

“Better?”

“Yeah.” The boy slid his hand down, though, along Stark’s chest, and then along his stomach. “Can I…?”

He felt the older man’s chuckle, and was close enough to him to feel him tense a little.

“Yes.”

Peter allowed his hand to slide under Tony’s sweats and his searching fingers found the man’s flaccid penis. He ran his fingers along the length of it, allowing his thumb to rub against the soft head.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Tony?” Peter asked, curiously, trying to remember if he’d seen anything in the social pages or one of the newspapers that might have mentioned anyone.

“No. You?”

Peter shook his head, feeling the man start to respond to his hand. Nothing too solid, yet, just a bit of interest. It felt so weird to be touching someone else in a way that he’d ever only touched himself, but it was exciting, too.

“No. I’m too much of a nerd, I think.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No. You?”

“No. Believe me, I’m just as much of a nerd as you are – only older. And more jaded.”

“ _Older_ , yes.”

“You’re too young to be jaded, Peter.”

The boy snorted, and Stark remembered who he was talking to, tightening his hold on Peter, and pressing a kiss against the top of his head as he watched the boy’s hand under his sweats. Of course he was jaded. He’d lost everything. _Everyone_. Tony knew the feeling well. Probably why he connected so well with him. What was the saying? The miserable love company?

It wasn't _exactly_ how it went, but it was probably equally valid. The billionaire didn’t feel like wallowing in a pity party, though. He _wasn't_ alone, just then. He had a beautiful young man playing with his cock, and would have him at least a few more days, unless Peter decided he wanted to go. Tony hoped he didn’t. He’d rather enjoyed the sensation of having someone to come home to that morning.

“Can I suck you, Tony?”

The question broke into his introspection, and almost startled him.

“Are you up to it?” he asked, looking down at their positions.

There wouldn’t be too much maneuvering involved. Peter’s head was on his chest. Not that far from his groin, already. If he were careful, and didn’t put any weight on the injured leg, he could probably swing around a little and make the reach.

The boy clearly had the same idea. Peter shifted, bending himself over Tony, and coming halfway out of the blankets to do so. Stark felt him pull his cock free of the sweats at the same moment he found the boy’s ass right under his hand. Peter moved again to take his weight onto his good leg, lifting himself up a little off the bed, and pressing that flesh right against Tony’s hand, whether he realized it, or not.

The billionaire groaned as he felt Peter’s mouth on him, tasting him and teasing him with tentative licks. At the same time, he palmed the boy’s ass cheek, squeezing him and caressing him, the sight making him even harder, more excited. He had his ass right there, almost completely hairless and almost certainly virginal. Untouched but so tempting. Waiting for a man to take it. Make it - and Peter - his. His legs separated a little and Peter’s cock and testicles were now in Tony’s reach, as well. He slid his hand along the boy’s crack, stopping at his tiny, puckered entrance for a moment, nudging his finger against him.

Peter groaned, pressing back against his touch, even as his lips parted and he took Tony’s cock into his mouth.

“Yes… don’t stop, Peter.”

Tony brought his other hand up, easing Peter’s leg over his torso so the boy was straddling him, relying on the bandages to keep it from aching too much as he found his naked ass right in front of him. A hand on either white globe and he was caressing the boy, spreading his ass cheeks wide one moment, stroking his cock from behind him the next. He teased the boy’s sack, rolling his testicles gently in his hand, stroking him again when Peter’s hips began to move.

The entire time, he never stopped sucking on him and Tony found himself getting close almost embarrassingly soon. He whimpered, his hands stilling on Peter’s hips, now, holding the boy, tightly, but concentrating on that young mouth and what he was doing to him. How much suction he was applying as it felt like he was trying to suck Tony’s testicles up through the head of his cock.

“Oh, yes… more like that,” Tony said, his hips pressing upward, trying to drive himself down the boy’s throat but thwarted by the boy’s hand grasping the shaft of his cock to only allow the amount of length he could handle at that moment. “Suck me, Peter…”

The boy renewed his efforts, excited at the encouragement, and he began bobbing his head up and down over Tony’s groin, which did amazing things to his ass from Stark’s point of view. The billionaire grunted and climaxed, his fingers digging into Peter’s hips as he came, feeding the boy spurt after spurt of his hot cum, and shuddering in pleasure when he finally came down off the high.

“Jesus, that was hot…”

Peter chuckled, still licking his shaft and Tony squeezed the boy’s ass once more before he sat up a little and eased him off of him, being far more gentle, now, than he had been.

“Better than a B+?” Peter asked, as Stark tucked him up against his side. He’d reciprocate in a bit, but he needed to catch his breath, first.

“I’d give you extra credit on that one,” Tony assured him, kissing his forehead. “Just for the _view_.”


	12. 12

They spent the evening relaxing together, each enjoying the fact that they had someone to spend that time with.

Once Stark caught his breath, he abandoned Peter long enough to go get their dinner in the oven. Then, to the boy's utter delight – and satisfaction – he returned to the bed. He carefully double checked the bandages on the injured leg to make sure he hadn’t hurt him positioning him like he had earlier, and then spent the better part of an hour lavishing attention on Peter’s cock, bringing him to climax repeatedly, and enjoying the way he writhed under him, pleading for release one moment, begging him not to stop the next. It was exciting to Tony, who naturally had a controlling and dominant personality already, and if Peter had a chance to experience a little pleasure (or a _lot_ ) after having such a rough time of things, well that was all to the good, then.

Two horny birds, one delicious stone.

He left Peter still quivering in the bed and went to finish making dinner. While he was chopping ingredients for a salad to go with the casserole he had in the oven, he looked up and saw the boy walking gingerly out of the guestroom wearing the pajama bottoms and heading slowly for the sofa. Tony smiled at how pleased Peter looked at getting himself up and around, and finished what he was doing before he walked over to him, leaning over the back of the sofa to pull the blanket around his naked shoulders and press a kiss against his temple.

“You shouldn’t be on that leg any more than necessary.”

“I wanted to come see what you were doing.”

“Making salad. Nothing exciting.”

The boy didn’t say it, but as far as he was concerned, _everything_ about Tony was exciting. His looks, his voice, his touch. All of it. Instead, he smiled, looking up at him.

“Can I help?”

“Nothing left to do,” the billionaire assured him, brushing his fingers along his cheek. Jesus, his eyes were a menace. Gorgeous and hopeful and added to that _smile_? Tony almost wished that he’d saved something for Peter to chop. “Dinner will be done in a minute.”

“It smells good.”

They ate on the sofa, with Tony urging Peter to have seconds of everything. Which he did. Stark was amused by just how much food the boy could eat, chalking it up to his youth and the metabolism change that had probably been brought on by the whole spider bite thing. He was fine with that; the more he ate, the sooner his ribs wouldn’t show like they did, and the angles of his cheekbones would soften a little.

“There’s leftover cake for dessert,” he told Peter when they were finished. “If we don’t eat it tonight it’ll be just stale enough that it won’t taste that great.”

The boy nodded, and Stark picked up their dishes and headed into the kitchen, just as he heard Peter ask FRIDAY to turn on the television.

“You want to watch a movie?” Peter asked him, loud enough to be heard over the water running in the sink while Tony cleared the dishes to put them into the dishwasher.

“Yup. I’m not picky, though. Find something you want to see.”

Tony cut them both a slice of cake; Peter’s was a fair bit bigger than his own, and carried them out to the couch. Then he went back for another cup of coffee for himself and a glass of milk, which he set down in front of the boy.

“You _know_ I’m fifteen, right?” the boy pointed out. "Almost sixteen."

Stark nodded, painfully aware of the fact.

“Yeah. So?”

“You _could_ offer me coffee.”

“Did you _want_ coffee?”

He hadn’t mentioned any desire for it before then, so Tony had naturally assumed it wasn't something that he drank.

“No. I just want to be _offered_ it, sometime.”

The billionaire rolled his eyes.

“Can I bring you some coffee with your cake, Mr. Parker?”

Peter smirked.

“No. I’ll have milk.”

“Eat your cake.”

Inwardly, though, he was grinning like an idiot, pleased as hell that he was willing to banter with him like that. He sat down beside him, and Peter shifted, sharing his blanket and then leaning into his side once he’d finished the cake. Tony didn’t even bother. He slid an arm around his narrow waist and held him against him, tucking Peter’s head under his chin.

Not surprisingly, the boy didn’t make it through the movie before he fell asleep. Tony didn’t mind, though. He just held Peter until it was over and then slid out from beside him, making sure he didn’t wake him. He pulled the blankets back on the guestroom bed and then gathered the boy into his arms and put him to bed, tucking the blankets warmly around his, but not stripping him down like he might have, since he didn’t want to risk waking him up.

The billionaire kissed him, tenderly, and then turned out the lights.

“Wake me if he has a nightmare, FRIDAY,” he ordered, softly, thinking that he could probably actually sleep for a while, and heading for his room.

_“You got it.”_

><><<<<<>>> 

It was Peter who woke Tony in the middle of the night, not FRIDAY. Stark roused when the boy pulled his blankets back and slid under the covers with him, tucking his chilled body right up against Tony’s warm one.

Tony rolled onto his side, not even opening his eyes, and pulled the boy up against him, hand sliding down his hip to warm him, vaguely aware of the fact that Peter wasn't wearing the pajamas that he’d been put to bed in.

“You okay?” he asked, sleepily.

“Yeah.” Peter brushed a kiss against his chest. “It’s alright?”

“Yes…”

He was almost asleep again when Peter’s hand moved between them, seeking and finding Tony’s groin in the dark, and carefully caressing him, his fingers sliding along Stark’s penis. Tony sighed in pleasure at the sensation, holding himself still and waiting to see what the boy wanted from him. When Peter simply continued to stroke him, Tony decided that he just wanted to explore – which was fine. He could certainly live with that – and the hard-on it was producing.

“Feels good, Tony?” came a whisper in the dark.

“It’s amazing, Peter,” he replied, honestly. “I love it when you touch me.”

The boy made a pleased noise, which made Tony smile. His own hand simply slid along Peter’s hip, lightly, his mind lost in the pleasure of the touch and nothing more compelling, just then. When he was fairly well aroused, Peter shifted, and Tony wondered if the boy’s plan was to vanish under the blankets and suck him off. He didn’t, though; he rolled in Stark’s embrace, and pressed his back against Tony’s front, tucking himself perfectly into the curve of Tony’s body and reaching for his hand to bring it around him.

Then he went still.

Tony sighed, thinking that he was definitely going to have a word with the kid, later, about getting him hot and bothered only to go to sleep. Peter shifted against Tony, who suddenly realized this his aching cock was right against the boy’s ass. The boy’s beautiful ass. He felt himself twitch and couldn’t resist moving his hips, just a little, to feel the throbbing head of his cock brush against Peter.

The boy made a soft noise and pressed back and Tony groaned at the sensation. It was so tempting. He was right _there_. He moved his hips, again, his hand suddenly on Peter’s ass, spreading his cheek just enough to allow Tony to slide his cock along the boy’s crack, precum making the motion a little slicker. The sensation was so hot. Peter’s ass so perfect. Designed just for him. Just to hold his cock. He rutted, gently against him, his hand on his hip, his cock sliding back and forth along Peter’s ass crack, the tip occasionally nudging the boy’s opening as Tony pushed it by. Then nudging it, again, working himself up, feeling his cock swelling with an aching desire to go further. _Much_ further.

Peter moaned, and the sound was all it took to send Tony over the edge of his teetering self-control. His hand on Peter suddenly shifted, and was joined by the other as Tony moved behind the boy. He sat up, moving his legs and rolling the boy from his side onto his stomach, and then positioning himself between Peter’s thighs before the boy probably had any idea what was happening.

His hand went to the head of his cock, rubbing it against Peter’s untried opening, precum drooling from Tony’s slit. The boy whimpered when Tony forced a finger inside him, and the hand that wasn't working Peter’s tight hole splayed on the boy’s back, holding him down. Impatient and eager, Stark didn’t bother with another finger. His eager cockhead found its mark in the dark, guided by Tony’s fist, and he pushed his hips forward, pressing his assault on that too tight hole, ignoring the moans of the boy as he forced his young body to yield to his demanding needs.

Stark grunted when he cleared that tight ring of muscle, and a thrust was all it took for him to find himself balls deep and hilted inside the boy. Peter cried out with pleasure – or pain – Tony didn’t know, and at the moment didn’t care. He pulled back, then pushed himself back in, one hand on Peter’s hip, the other keeping him in position, making sure he took everything Tony was giving him. He grunted as he slammed the boy, his weight and each demanding thrust pinning him to the sheets, and then his hand pulling him back against him as he withdrew, only long enough to thrust back into him.

“Yes…” Tony whispered in the dark, loud enough to be heard over the sounds Peter was making under him. “ _Take_ it, Peter. Fuck… that’s so good… You’re so tight… So tight for me…”

The billionaire moved his hand, both of them now on Peter’s hips, holding him tightly as he fucked him, mercilessly, each thrust harder than the last, his cock swelling inside that tight ass that held him so perfectly. Driving the boy into the mattress with each thrust, building until he knew he was going to blow his load and fill Peter so hard he’d be snorting it out his nose.

“Hang on, baby,” he grunted, his hands moving to Peter’s shoulders, his body completely covering the slight frame under him. “I’m going to fill you up.”

Peter was making soft noises, muffled by the mattress and bedding under him and completely driving Tony insane with lust. He snapped his hips forward, pulling the boy back, repeatedly, until he crested, and drove deep, stilling inside Peter as he exploded in a climax like nothing he’d felt in far too long. With a grunt he came, his balls unloading rope after rope of his seed inside Peter’s bowels, dousing the fires created by his repeated thrusts.

Ultra-aware of the boy trembling under him, Tony hitched his hips a few more times, sliding himself in and out of that now incredibly slick ass as he softened, Stark gave a truly satisfied sigh and pulled himself out of Peter. He pulled the blankets over them with one hand, and tucked Peter’s unresisting body against him with the other, making sure his cock was still right up against the slick crack.

And went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify this chapter. There was no non con involved. Peter knew what he was doing, and wasn't being forced.


	13. 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so as the story evolves I may need to add tags. Nothing too dramatic and I will apologize now if you see something in the tale that I don't tag for. Sorry!

Peter woke the next morning sore. Not just his leg – which ached a _lot_ – but his rear, his shoulders and his back all ached as well. He stretched under the blankets, reaching for Tony, automatically, and encountered an empty space where his warm body should have been. He opened his eyes and verified what his hand was telling him, and then looked around, thinking that maybe he’d gone to the bathroom and would be right back.

Twenty minutes later, limping and moving slowly, he walked out of Stark’s bedroom, wearing a pair of pajama bottoms found in a dresser against the wall. Tony was sitting slumped in the smaller of the two couches, his head in his hands and a drink on the table. He, too, was wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and nothing more, and he looked up when Peter made his way to the bigger couch.

“Did I hurt you?”

Peter noticed that his voice had an odd quality to it that he’d never heard before.

“A little,” he admitted, easing himself down into the leather with a wince and a sigh. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely _not_ okay,” Tony said, downing the drink. “I’m sorry.”

The boy couldn’t understand why he looked so upset. Or why he was drinking so early.

“It doesn’t hurt that much, Tony. Really. My leg hurts worse than anything.”

“It shouldn’t hurt, at _all_ , Peter. I just… you were _there_ , and so perfect, and I couldn’t help myself. It’s not an _excuse_ , but-“

“Wait,” Peter interrupted. “Are you upset that we had _sex_?”

“I’m upset because I pretty much raped you.”

“I came into your room.”

“Needing to be held.”

“Wanting to have sex. I came to you, Tony. I wanted to try it, but I didn’t know how to ask. It's not something I'm good at, you know. So I thought that if I put myself where you’d be able to do it, you _would_.”

“I _did_. Completely out of control.”

“Yeah? I thought maybe that was how it was supposed to be. I _could_ have stopped you, though. You didn’t _rape_ me.”

“Peter, I was all over you.”

The boy smiled, remembering.

“Yeah, you were. That was the best part.”

“It’s not funny.”

Chastised, he lost the smile.

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

Peter reached for the blanket that had been discarded the night before, feeling a little chilled and a lot vulnerable, suddenly.

“Don’t be mad, Tony. _Please_? I just wanted to know what it felt like.”

Stark frowned.

“I’m not mad at _you_ ,” he said, realizing that they were definitely not on the same page. Peter seemed to think he was mad at him, while Tony was completely upset with himself for forcing himself on the boy so roughly. “I’m mad at me.”

“Why?”

“Because I _hurt_ you, Peter. That was your first time, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then it should have been done right.”

The boy shrugged. As far as he knew, everything went where it was supposed to go. He didn’t say that, though, because he didn’t want to make Tony any more upset than he was.

“It wasn't that bad.”

“Did you even climax?”

“Earlier.”

“While I was inside you?”

“No. I didn’t have a chance.”

“That’s what I mean.” The billionaire rubbed his face. “It could have – _should_ have – been done with a lot more finesse. I was just too eager to get myself inside you.”

Peter hesitated.

“We could try it again. I mean, not right _now_.” He didn’t feel like doing much of anything, just then. “But _sometime_.” Tony stared at him, and Peter blushed, uncertainly. “If you wanted… that is.”

“I’ve already hurt you once.”

“It’s my _leg_ that hurts, mostly,” the boy said. “And my back, a little.”

“And your rear?”

“A bit. Not as much as my leg. And you didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Is there any bleeding?”

“I didn’t check.” He moved the blanket, looking down at his leg, which was covered by his too loose pajama bottoms. “Do you want to look?”

Stark sighed and got up, walking over to the big couch, and sitting down next to the boy.

“I _do_. But I wasn't talking about your _leg_.”

Which elicited another blush when Peter realized what he meant.

“Oh. I didn’t check there, either…”

“Do you mind if I do?”

“Oh. No. You can.”

Tony helped him to his feet, and Peter leaned on the arm of the sofa and dropped his pajamas. Tony frowned at the bruises marring both of the boy’s hips. Evidence of just how hard he’d been clutching him. He made a tsking noise and ran his fingers along a particularly dark one.

“Does that hurt?”

“No.”

“Bend over for me.” Peter complied, and Tony’s hand slid along the boy’s ass, which was also bruised where he’d grabbed and been rough in the dark. He shook his head and slid his fingers along the boy’s crack, while Peter trembled under his touch. “Am I hurting you?”

“No. Just cold. It’s okay.”

He checked for any sign that he’d actually torn Peter’s delicate flesh in his urgency, but didn’t see any indication, luckily, and told him to go ahead and sit down so he could check the leg wound. The bandages didn’t show any sign of seepage or blood, and Stark was relieved that he’d thought to use extra padding the day before when he’d redressed the injury.

“I think you’re okay,” he said, meeting Peter’s eyes as he reached down and pulled the pajamas back over him and tied them on. “Are you hungry?”

“No. Not yet. Sleepy, really.”

“Go back to bed for a while, then.”

“Will you come with me?”

“I don’t think that’s such a go-“

“Please, Tony. I’m… I really would like to be held.”

“That’s what got us in this position in the first place.”

Peter couldn’t help the sting of tears. Disappointment in himself for being so dumb, and having ruined things between him and Tony, just when they were getting _started_ , really, and distress that he’d asked for something so blatantly and had been denied, no matter how gentle that denial had been. He nodded, though, and turned away before Tony could see him crying over something so stupid.

He couldn’t escape quickly enough for that, though. Not as sore as he was, or as slowly as he moved. Stark saw the first alligator tear roll down the boy’s cheek as he turned toward the guest room and he pulled Peter into his arms, bringing him back down onto the couch, but this time into his lap, tucking his head under his chin.

“I’m sorry,” Peter murmured, burying his face against Tony’s chest. “I’m just being dumb.”

“Or you’re overwhelmed, and you need to be held,” the billionaire told him, rocking him, gently. “I’m sorry, too.” He pressed his cheek against the boy, cooing soft words of praise as they sat there. “You’re so brave, Peter,” he whispered. “So beautiful. It’s okay. Really. I’m here.”

He settled, the words and tone of Tony’s voice making all the difference, and soothing him. Peter sighed against his bare skin, feeling a haze of comfort and happiness well up inside him at the words.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Yes, honey. I _know_ you are.”

He didn’t _feel_ beautiful. Not with his face puffy from crying and his nose plugged up and running at the same time. But he couldn’t doubt the sincerity in the older man’s voice.

“That’s nice.”

 The billionaire smiled at the position he found himself in. Holding his young lover in his lap and whispering sweet nothings in his ear wasn't really his style, but here he was. Peter was certainly young, and despite the way he'd botched it, he _was_ his lover – and would almost certainly be again, soon. He felt his cock twitch at that thought, but tamped his desire down, ruthlessly. That could wait for another time. He chuckled.

“ _You’re_ nice. Let’s go back to bed for a while, okay? We’ll let you get some rest.”

“Yeah.”

He helped Peter off his lap and to his feet, but when Tony took his hand, he didn’t lead the boy into the guestroom, he guided him to his bedroom, and back into his bed.

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter said, as Stark undressed both of them and eased them both under the blankets, tucking the boy against him; belly to belly since he didn’t dare spoon him, again, just then. “Do you have to go to work, today?”

“No. I’m going to spend the day with you. If you’re alright with that?”

“I’d like that.”

He closed his eyes and sighed when he felt those strong arms wrap around him, cocooning him in warmth and comfort. And he went to sleep.


	14. 14

Soft fingers brushed his cheek, rousing him just a little from his nap. The gentle voice that followed the touch woke him completely.

“Peter? Wake up, honey.”

He opened his eyes, reluctantly. He was tired, and warm and despite aching _everywhere_ , he was comfortable. Tony’s eyes were locked on his and Peter blinked, owlishly.

“Hey…”

“I want you to eat, alright? Then you can go back to sleep if you want to.”

“Okay.”

He’d already brought the tray into the bedroom, Peter saw as he sat up. Loaded with enough food for both of them. Ham, eggs and English muffins with apple slices. Tony put the tray over Peter’s lap, and settled beside him, reaching for one of the apples. He had put on a pair of pajama bottoms but was bare-chested.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m okay, Tony. Just a little sore.”

“That’s how you feel, physically. Which is also important. But what about _mentally_?”

“Stupid.”

Stark smiled, his gaze tender.

“This isn’t on you, Peter.”

“I came to _you_ ,” the boy reminded him. “It’s not like you hopped into bed with me and jumped my bones.”

He’d been so excited – and nervous. But Tony had been so responsive when he'd sucked on him, and he’d felt the older man’s hands on his ass, and his finger pressing against him while he’d been taking care of Tony’s cock. Peter had wanted so much more. He just hadn’t known how to tell him – not without getting tongue-tied and probably making himself look like an idiot. Which would definitely had killed the mood.

Peter had decided that a quiet seducing might be the best – and least uncomfortable (for him, anyway) – way to go about trying to move things along with Tony. He didn’t know how long he’d have the man to himself like he did – it _was_ Tony Stark, after all, and he had a _lot_ of other responsibilities – but Peter definitely had had a sexual awakening, and he was suddenly greedy for a chance to experience it all before he healed up and went wherever he was going to go, next.

He hadn’t actually had any plan in mind, except that when Tony hadn’t been in the guestroom bed when Peter woke, he started thinking that if he just joined Tony in his own bed, he wouldn’t be able to ignore him. And then once he’d done that, and the billionaire hadn’t seemed to mind, Peter decided that if he had him hot and bothered and then, just kind of _presented_ himself, Tony could take things from there.

So he had. And _Stark_ had.

Peter hadn’t expected it to be really _good_ , the first time. He knew first times were more for the experience and to prepare for _later_ times, but _his_ first time had been more painful and… _fierce_ … than he’d expected. Tony had done what he’d wanted him to do, though, so the plan _itself_ had been flawless, really. He’d taken hold of him, had gotten behind him and had spread Peter’s legs and had taken him. It had been exciting, too. Feeling him so hard. So eager. Pressing down on him, pushing him into the bed, grabbing him. Even feeling him drive into him – that had been so _primal_ that it had almost been more pleasure than pain, if there had been a chance to become accustomed to what was happening.

Tony hadn’t done that, however, and Peter had found himself being pummeled with the man’s lust and unrelenting thrusts. But even that, though, hadn’t been _all_ bad. It had hurt, yeah, and not just a little, but the way Tony had spoken to him, had punctuated each motion with dirty talk (or what, for _Peter_ , was dirty talk, anyway) that had been exciting, too.

But then, just as Peter was starting to get the rhythm of things, it had been done. He’d felt himself flooded with warmth, which had burned a little in those raw spots inside him, and Tony had calmed, and then had pulled out and had simply held him and gone to sleep, leaving Peter unfulfilled and quivering with aching need – and aching body.

It had taken _him_ much longer to fall asleep.

“I handled it badly, though.” Stark shook his head. “We definitely needed more communication, more preparation and a _lot_ more foreplay.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“So am I, Peter. We’ll work it out.”

“Okay.”

“Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

>>><<>><>< 

Peter slept again after eating. He was just too tired and worn out to stay awake. Tony didn’t make it any easier for him to try, either, since he cleared the tray and dishes and had then joined Peter under the blankets, with the boy gathered in his arms, head tucked warmly under his chin and body right up against his own. The boy had tried to stay awake, just to wallow in the sensation of being held. Of being wanted.

Tony had lulled him to sleep with gentle words of love and praise.

When Peter had woken before lunch, Stark had still been there, keeping him company and doing some wallowing of his own. It was a pleasing – and _satisfying_ – sensation to have someone who _wanted_ to be held by him. Maybe even someone who needed him. He waited to see if Peter was going to go back to sleep, but when the boy sat up, he released him so that he could.

“Has anyone told you you’re adorable when you’re sleeping?” he asked, tenderly.

Peter blushed at the compliment, making the billionaire smile.

“Not lately.” Or _ever_. “I’m pretty sure I snore and drool… _not_ that adorable.”

“You’re wrong. On all counts.”

Peter shook his head, pleased.

“Thanks.”

“I’m going to go do some shopping this afternoon. Do you have any request for dinner?”

“You do your own _grocery shopping_?” Peter asked, surprised. “Not an online service?”

“Of course not. I’m not going to trust someone _else_ to find me the perfect tomato or squash, now am I?”

Oh.

“Yeah. I guess not.”

“What’s your favorite meal? And if you say _pizza_ or a _chalupa_ I’m going to toss you out on your head.”

Peter grinned.

“I’m pretty sure I’m stronger than you are. You _know_ that, right?”

Stark rolled his eyes.

“Answer the question.”

“Lasagna. With sausage _and_ hamburger. And bread. And no olives, because they are gross.”

“Got it.” Who puts olives in lasagna? “Are you alright with me leaving you alone, for a while?”

“Yeah. I’ll probably just sleep – or watch a movie.”

“Since someone has almost certainly found – and _stolen_ – your backpack by now, I’m going to get you some clothes, too. As much as I love you naked, you're going to need something to wear, eventually. You’re a boxers guy by preference, or was that just because that was all you had?”

Peter blushed at the reminder of how tattered his underwear had been.

“Preference.”

“Got it. Favorite color?”

“Anything is fine. I’m not picky.”

Stark kissed him, just because he could. And because he _wanted_ him to be picky.

“Answer the question, sweetheart.”

“Blue. Dark blue, though, not baby blue. And _green_.”

“Got it. Can you think of anything else that you need?”

“No. Thank you. When are you going?”

“I’ll feed you some lunch, first. Make sure you don’t starve while I’m gone.”

“I’m hardly going to _starve_ …”

Tony ran his hand along the boy’s side, his fingers noting the prominent ribs.

“No. You're not going to starve,” he agreed, seriously. “Can I feed you sandwiches? Or do you want something more elaborate?”

“Sandwiches are fine.”

Anything was fine. Peter was getting used to being fed regularly, again, and liked it. To have so many _choices_? Even better.


	15. 15

Tony Stark had a few secrets. Things that the public – and _most_ of the people around him – didn’t know. Some were bigger secrets than others, but one of the less important ones was that he _loved_ to shop. He preferred to do his own grocery shopping, his own car shopping and his own real estate shopping. Basically, if it could be purchased, Tony would much rather _he_ be the one to pick it out before buying it.

Which had been one of the reasons he’d been in Queens the day they’d found Peter; to purchase that software.

“How’s the kid?” Happy asked, opening the door of the sedan for Tony.

He would drive himself but sometimes it was a bitch to find parking and this way Happy could just drop him off and then pick him up when he was finished.

“He seems to be doing well,” Stark answered, honestly, not surprised by the question. Happy asked about Peter each time he saw Stark. He was, in a sense, his project, too, since he'd been with Tony when they'd found the boy. “He sleeps a lot, eats everything I put in front of him and the leg is _still_ attached.”

“That’s a start.”

“My thoughts, exactly. We should have weighed him the day we found him, to have a control and see if he’s gaining any weight.”

“He’s not shy about eating?”

“No. So I need more food, to handle his appetite, and _he_ needs some _clothes_ , because he doesn’t have anything.”

“Poor guy. What’s going to happen to him?”

“Depends on what he _wants_ ,” Tony replied. “Whatever it _is_ , there will be a lot of food, it’s not going to be living on the streets, and he’s not going to be wearing rags.”

“Good. Mega store?”

“Please.”

He could find clothes and groceries in one stop and wouldn’t be away from Peter any longer than necessary – even though the boy was already dozing off on the couch when Tony had kissed him and left the apartment, reminding him that FRIDAY was a word away if needed.

Wearing jeans and a pullover sweatshirt and not being followed by a crowd of press and fangirls, Tony was able to somewhat blend in with the other shoppers. He started on the clothing side of the store, pushing his cart ahead of him as he found everything that he could think of that Peter might need – and a few things he probably didn’t _need_ , but that Tony wanted him to have.

Cart satisfyingly full, he moved to the grocery side and made sure he had enough fresh food to feed the two of them for the next few days – including the ingredients for lasagna that evening – and then headed for the checkout stand.

>><><><><>>>> 

FRIDAY confirmed Peter was still asleep on the sofa when Happy and Tony returned to the apartment. The driver helped Stark carry the copious bags and packages up to the penthouse, stacking everything on the kitchen island as quietly as possible. Then he walked over and looked down at the sleeping boy.

“He needs some _sun_ , boss. Maybe he should spend some time on the balcony every day.”

“Now that he has clothes to wear, that’s not a bad idea.” Stark hadn’t considered that. “The doctor will be by to check him out day after tomorrow. Maybe we can get some color on him by then.”

Happy nodded, and headed for the door. He had a lot of other assignments.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“I think I’m good until tomorrow morning, Thanks.”

Happy left, closing the door behind him, softly, and Tony leaned over the back of the sofa and watched the boy sleep for a long few minutes before he remembered that he had groceries to put away – including ice cream – and dinner to prep.

He put the groceries away, and set water to boiling for his lasagna noodles, but then he carried all the remaining packages into the guest room and busied himself in there, whistling cheerfully while doing so.

><<><><>> 

He woke with a start, his head coming off the pillow with a frightened gasp, the weird dream fading almost immediately, but the confusion it had caused lingering.

“Shhh…” A hand palmed his cheek, and the voice was calm.

Peter opened his eyes and saw Tony sitting on the arm of the sofa, right next to his head, looking down at him. His eyes were soft, despite the concern he could see in them.

“Tony…” He looked around, without moving his head from the older man’s touch. “What smells so _good_?”

It wasn’t what he’d intended to say, but the smell of something savory permeated the room and his sleep-fogged brain.

Stark smiled, his thumb brushing Peter’s cheek.

“Dinner. How do you feel?”

“I’m okay.”

“Still sore?”

The boy moved a little and nodded.

“Yeah. A bit.”

“Hungry?”

“Sure.”

“We’ll eat in about half an hour.”

“Okay.”

He put his head back down on the cushion, closed his eyes and reached up and caught the billionaire’s hand where it was against his cheek.

“You smell good.”

Tony chuckled, leaning over and kissing Peter’s ear.

“That’s _dinner_ , Peter. Not me.”

“Smells good.”

“Are you going to be awake enough to enjoy it?”

“Yeah.”

“Open your eyes and tell me that.”

He did as he was told, looking up at Stark, a little more awake, now, and losing himself in the older man’s tender gaze.

“I’m awake.”

“Good.”

“Kiss me, again.”

Tony brushed his lips against Peter’s ear, tenderly, and then moved to his lips and repeated the gesture, his tongue sliding along the boy’s lower lip, tasting him, briefly, before smiling.

“Like that?”

“Yeah. Again?”

He was kissed, again, this time not quite as gently, but still perfect.

“Better?”

“Yes. Did you go to the store?”

“Yes.” Tony’s smile was all for Peter. “I picked you up a few things.”

“A toothbrush?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. They’re in your room. Let’s go see if I guessed your sizes right.”

“A toothbrush is pretty much one size fits all.”

“I got you more than a toothbrush.” He walked to the front of the couch and offered Peter his hand to help him to his feet, where he stood, unsteadily for a moment. Then they walked at Peter’s slow pace to the guestroom door. “If you don’t like something, you’re under no obligation to keep it to yourself – just so you know.”

Peter was going to ask him what he meant, but he stopped at the door, staring. The room wasn’t any different, but there were many more items in it, now. Starting with a box on the stand by the bed, near his webshooters. Peter walked over and picked it up, looking back at Tony.

“You got me a _cell phone_?”

“I noticed you didn’t have one,” he said, with a shrug, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed, where he could watch the boy. “Not only is it odd, but it’s _dangerous_. If something comes up, you need to be able to call for help. My private number is already programmed in under your contacts, and you’re on my network – meaning unlimited calling, data and texting, of course.”

“That’s…” Peter was amazed. He’d had one, of course, but when the plan didn’t get paid, they’d turned it off. He’d still used it for music and for some Wi-Fi aps until it had fallen out of his sweats during a swing and had dropped 43 floors to its inevitable demise. That had been weeks ago. “Wow…”

“Don’t say it’s too much,” Stark said. “Because it _isn’t_. Just say thank you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Tony smiled. “There’s more. Keep looking.”

Peter turned to the dresser. On it was a stack of toiletries; toothbrush and toothpaste, a brush and a comb, shower gel, and deodorant. There was also a dark blue backpack.

“It’s a nice one.”

“You’re just confirming that I have good taste,” the billionaire said, his expression slightly self-deprecating. “Check the dresser.”

When Peter opened the top drawer, he found bundles of socks and several pairs of boxers. All silk, he noticed, and while they were mostly various blues and greens – and a few plain white ones, he smiled when a particular pair caught his eye, and picked them up, turning to Tony.

“ _Ironman_ boxers?”

Stark shrugged.

“I couldn’t resist. I bought a pair for myself, too. They’re silk. And my face is all over them. Can’t go wrong.”

Peter chuckled, and put them back, closing the drawer and opening the next, feeling a thrill of happiness even as he revealed nothing more exciting than two stacks of neatly folded t-shirts. Some were plain solid colors, others had designs, but Peter couldn’t see what they said since they were folded and he didn’t stop to look. He closed that drawer and opened the next, finding sweats and a pair of pajamas. The drawer below that was stuffed with jeans, also neatly folded.

“Wow.”

“Pull a pair out,” Tony suggested. “We’ll want to make sure of the fit. I just guessed, really. None of the sizes mentioned scrawny teenager.”

It hurt a bit to bend over, but he didn’t even notice, really. When he pulled a pair of the jeans from the drawer, he saw that there was a new pair of tennis shoes sitting beside the dresser, as well. He limped over to the bed, carrying the jeans and set them in the space next to the older man, who reached for him and with a careful grip on his bruised hips moved Peter to stand in front of him. He untied the drawstring on the sweats that Peter was wearing and allowed them to fall, looking up at the teen, who was watching him.

“I don’t know what to say,” Peter told him. “It’s so much.”

Stark shook his head.

“It’s not _enough_ ,” he replied, reaching for the jeans. “But I didn’t want to go all out crazy. Especially without being sure of sizes. We’ll get you healthy enough, and next time you can come _with_ me and pick out the next lot, yourself. Hands on my shoulder.”

Peter steadied himself with a hand on Tony, while the man lifted a foot at a time to get him out of the sweats and then put his feet into the legs of the jeans and pulled them up, his hand carefully tucking Peter’s penis into them before he zipped them and buttoned them. The boy smiled.

“Should have brought over the Ironman boxers.”

“Commando is fine, for now,” Tony said, not bothering to resist the desire to slide his hand along the front of the denim and smiling at the twitch he felt in reply. “You won’t be in them long. Fit okay?”

“Yeah. They’re great.”

“No chafing?”

“Well, I don’t have any underwear on, so a little. But they’re perfect. Thank you.”

“This might come as a surprise, Peter,” Tony said, reaching for the button and undoing it, and then pulling the zipper down. “But I don’t have a _lot_ of people to buy things for. I had a good time picking things out for you. Besides, now I get to unwrap you, which is always fun, too.”

He pulled the jeans down and bent to help Peter step out of them, but didn’t reach for the discarded sweats. Instead, he put his hands on Peter’s hips to steady him, and nuzzled his face against the boy’s groin, his mouth unerringly finding the teen’s already interested penis.

Peter made a soft noise of appreciation, looking down and watching as the billionaire licked a trail of moisture along his semi-erect shaft and then started teasing the head, which sent shivers through him, and he moved his hand from Tony’s shoulder to his hair, hesitantly, running his fingers through it, admiring how perfect he was.

“That feels good, Tony…” he murmured.

Which made the older man chuckle and draw Peter into his mouth, his head bobbing as he began sucking him in earnest, now, mouth, lips and tongue all apparently committed to getting Peter as hard as he could be in record time, since that’s what happened. The boy groaned as he watched Stark play with just the head, his tongue flicking against the underside of it, finding the most sensitive spots and teasing those spots until Peter couldn’t stop his hips from moving.

“ _Please_ …”

Tony brought him back into his mouth and one hand left Peter’s hip and began fondling him, the shaft would be stroked when it wasn’t buried in Tony’s mouth, and then his fingers would gently roll the boy’s testicles, playing with them, teasing them. He slid his hand to Peter’s ass, cupping the flesh there and pulling the boy even closer, burying his cock into his throat for a moment and humming, which sent a shiver of pleasure through the slim frame and was all it took to send him over the edge.

His body tensed, and Tony backed off just a little as Peter’s cock spasmed, and the boy grunted as he came, Stark’s mouth filling with warm, salty, cum. He clamped his lips around Peter and made approving noises as the boy’s hips jerked with each spurt, guzzling him down with considerably more noise than was really necessary.

He licked him off and then stood, bringing his arms around Peter’s shuddering body, holding him close and hugging him, feeling Peter holding him, tightly.

“You alright?”

The boy nodded; his face buried against Tony’s shirt while he trembled from his release.

“Yeah. That was great.”

“Yes. It was.” He took the boy’s head in his hands, a palm cupping each cheek, and tilted his face toward his own, his eyes meeting those beautiful chocolate brown ones, which were slightly glazed at the moment as Peter was working on coming down from his climax. Stark smiled, amused and feeling something else that he couldn’t quite label – even in his own head – and he kissed the boy, gently. “I think-“

There was a sudden beeping noise from the kitchen, and Stark swore, softly, and chuckled.

“I think the _lasagna_ is done.” He kissed Peter, again, and then knelt down and helped him get his too baggy sweats back on, pulling them up and tying them around the slim hips, covering the bruises he’d left the night before. “Come join me when you’re ready. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Peter stopped him before he could move away, though, and he hugged him, again. “Thanks, Tony.”

“You’re welcome, honey.” He ran his fingers through Peter’s curls, and kissed his cheek, and then his ear, feeling his own body responding ardently to the boy’s closeness. The oven timer beeped, again, insistently, and he pulled away with a warm smile. “I have to go get that, or we’ll be picking out charred noodles.”

He left, and Peter sat down on the bed, weak-kneed and unable to stand all that steadily without the billionaire’s strong arms supporting him.

“Wow…”


	16. 16

They ate dinner at the dining table. Lasagna was just too potentially messy to try to eat anywhere else. Not in bed or on the couch, anyway. Stark was suitably gratified by Peter’s obvious enjoyment of the meal. It made the extra work he’d gone to all worth the effort.

“This is amazing.”

“Thank you. Do you want more?”

“Yes, please.”

As the boy made his way through a third helping, Tony finished his own serving and lingered over a fresh garlic roll, watching him with a mixture of amusement and enjoyment. He was beautiful.

“Whatever is left over will reheat fairly well for your lunch tomorrow,” he told the boy. “I’m going to be gone most of the day, unfortunately.”

“You have to work?”

“Yes.”

Peter nodded. He’d known _Tony Stark_ wasn’t going to be able to be with him every minute of every day, after all. He was probably insanely busy, what with Stark Industries _and_ being Ironman and an Avenger. Peter was lucky to have had him as much as did, he was sure.

“Okay.”

“You’ll be alright, alone?”

“Yeah. Of course. Probably just sleep some more. But if you needed something done, I could do it for you. Laundry or something?”

Tony smiled.

“No. The housekeeper does that – and she doesn’t come until day after tomorrow. All I need _you_ to do for me, right now, is get yourself healthy. Happy suggested that you spend some time in the sun, too. Maybe you can sit out on the balcony and get some fresh air tomorrow, too.”

“Yeah, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” He gestured to the now empty plate. “Finished?”

Peter nodded, watching as Tony cleared the table, but easing himself to his feet to help take some of their dishes to the sink at his slow shuffle. He felt alright, really. Sore and achy, but no stabbing pains anywhere. Which was a relief.

Stark took the dishes from him but then sent him to the sofa to get him off his feet.

“Find us a movie to watch, Peter,” he ordered the boy. “I’ll be right out.”

The boy did as he was told and went into the living room, feeling a little groggy, but only because he’d eaten a lot more than was probably good for him. It’d been good, though, and he was smiling when he picked up the remote, easing himself down onto the sofa. A few minutes later, Tony was behind him, leaning over him and pressing a kiss to his ear while his hands ran along Peter’s chest and belly.

“Why are you wearing _clothes_?” he asked, softly, his breath tickling Peter’s ear. “I want you naked for me, tonight, please. I’ll be right back.”

Peter felt a thrill go through him at the words and he nodded, watching as the older man vanished into his bedroom and then sliding out of his clothes and bundling up in the blanket that he’d slept in all day. Not for modesty’s sake, but because without clothes, he was a little cold. He picked up the remote and was flipping through movie options when Tony returned, wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms, which he took off immediately and joined Peter in his blanket – warming the boy almost instantly.

“Sci-fi okay?” Peter asked, cuddling against the billionaire’s side.

“Whatever you want, honey,” Tony told him. He took the remote, though, and paused the movie Peter had chosen before setting it on the coffee table. “First, though, let’s do some communicating. I want you to know what my intentions are for this evening, and I want to know what you think about them That way there aren’t any surprises or uncertainty. Fair?”

“Yes.”

Stark pulled Peter onto his lap, easily, the boy’s light frame making him easy to maneuver. He tucked his head on his shoulder, his hand resting on the uninjured thigh, the boy’s legs slightly parted.

“I want to touch you. Caress you, and taste you and suck on you.”

“Okay.”

“I want to _fuck_ you, too, but I’m not going to.”

“Why not?” Peter asked, surprised and a little dismayed. “Because of what I did before?”

Tony kissed his, softly.

“No. It’s not a punishment, Peter – which is exactly what I thought you might think, and why we’re _communicating_. You’re still hurting from that, and I want to give you a chance to heal a bit. And I don’t want to jar your leg any more than necessary. There’s plenty we can still do, and I assure you, I’m going to do it. We’ll see how you feel in a couple of days, and try the rest, then.”

“I don’t hurt too much…”

“I don’t want any arguments, honey. Your ass is off limits to my cock right now, and I mean it. I want the next time to feel good for you – which means _painless_. Right now, it wouldn’t be.”

“Oh.”

He chuckled at the disappointment he could still hear in the boy’s voice.

“You’ll enjoy tonight. I promise.”

“I can play with you, still?” Peter asked.

“Of course.”

“ _Anything_ I want?”

“As long as you don’t try to stick my cock into your ass, yes. Anything. _And_ we don’t hurt that leg.”

He pouted a bit; lower lip actually sticking out – which was adorable, Stark decided. But then he nodded.

“Okay.”

“Good. Any questions?”

“You _want_ to fuck me, though, right?”

Tony smiled.

“Absolutely.”

“Good.” Peter slid his hand along Tony’s chest, stopping hesitantly at the arc reactor. “Does it hurt you? Can I hurt you?”

“No to both. And it won’t hurt you. Just don’t try to take it out, please. Without proper grounding, it’d shock the hell out of you – and I wouldn’t be in any condition to help.”

“Gotcha.”

“And no _hickeys_ ,” Stark added. “This has to be our secret, and a trail of bite marks from neck to penis would almost certainly give us away.”

“I’ll be careful,” Peter promised.

“Ready?” Tony asked.

“Yes.”

“FRIDAY? Lights. Play movie.”

The room was suddenly dark aside from the TV and the movie started. In that pleasant darkness, Tony slid his hand along Peter’s thigh and found his semi erect cock with his fingers. As the opening credits began playing, he was already stroking the boy, his mouth seeking the teen’s and his own cock making its presence felt against Peter’s hip.

>>><<<><>>> 

By the time the movie was over, the blanket was a mess and Tony and Peter were both streaked with cum in various stages of drying. Peter had climaxed first, not surprisingly. Tony had simply held the boy on his lap and jerked him off, whispering all the things that he wanted to do to him while Peter writhed on top of him. When he had finally erupted with a gasp and had finished trembling, Peter had shifted his position, and Stark approved. Straddling his knees on either side of Tony’s thighs, moving carefully to avoid jarring his leg, but trapping the billionaire’s cock between them and resting his cheek on Tony’s shoulder while gently stroking him.

Tony found he was the one writhing, eventually, and he closed his eyes as Peter turned the tables on him, whispering in his ear with every stroke.

“I love you being hard like this…” he murmured. “Imagine it being inside me. Filling me… making me moan in pleasure as you hold me down and take me all night… So hard… I’ll be under you, begging you for it…”

“You’ll be mine,” Tony told him, grunting, as his hips started jerking.

“All yours,” Peter agreed. “Yours to fuck, any time you need me. Every time…”

The older man came with very little warning, cum smearing Peter’s hand and both of their bellies and chests.

“God, Peter,” Tony moaned, running a finger through the stripe on his belly and then pressing it against the boy’s lip. “When did you suddenly get so good at dirty talk?”

Peter licked the finger clean and nuzzled Tony’s neck.

“It’s easy in the dark.”

“We’ll work on making it easy in the light, too,” Stark promised, sliding Peter off his lap, now, and stretching him out on the sofa, parting his legs and putting himself between them before lowering his head to unerringly find his now erect penis with his lips and tongue.

Whatever the boy had been planning to say was swallowed by the moan that suddenly escaped him when Tony slid a finger along his ass and touched his puckered hole.

“ _Oh_! I thought you said-“

Stark released Peter’s cock with a wet pop, licking drool and precum from the head.

“ _That_ wasn’t my cock, honey.”

Eventually they left the couch and went to bed. They stopped in Tony’s bathroom, still naked and he wet a couple of towels and grabbed some soap and cleaned Peter’s body, tenderly, his lips kissing the boy’s neck and jaw, careful not to leave any marks as he had all evening. He even bent him carefully over and washed his hair for him. The teen then sat on the bathroom sink, drying himself, watching with a little jealousy and a _lot_ of possessiveness as Tony showered.

Both were slaked when they ended up in bed, Stark wrapped around Peter’s warm, naked, body and Peter’s head resting on his shoulder.

“Tony?” Peter said, almost asleep.

“Hmmm?”

“I _like_ movie night.”

The billionaire chuckled, running his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“So do I, honey.”


	17. 17

Waking up naked with someone was a new experience for Peter. Something that was exciting, and comfortable, and relaxing. Arms were around him and he was being held, and he felt loved, and wanted and cherished. It was a heady experience for someone who had been all alone for the last few months and had expected to be alone for at least the next year or so.

“Awake?” Tony asked, sleepily, when Peter shifted in his arms.

He’d been awake a few minutes, himself, but was in no hurry to start his day, really.

“Yeah.”

“How do you feel?”

“Good. _Comfortable_.”

Stark chuckled.

“Me, too.”

The boy lifted his leg, bringing it over Tony’s hip, making a pleased noise when their bodies got that much closer and he felt the billionaire’s cock brush against his belly.

“Now?”

“Better.” Tony kissed him, moving his hips a few times to slide his cock against Peter, finding a nice slow rhythm as he rutted slowly against him. “So much better.”

Peter sighed, his cock twitching excitedly at the contact.

“Please, Tony…”

“Please _what_ , honey?”

”You know...”

”Say it for me.”

He flushed.

”I... putitinme...”

“No, Peter,” Tony said, kissing the boy, again. “I don’t have time to do it, properly, and when I do, I’m going to want to hold you, after, and maybe do it again, almost immediately. I’ll go get the medical supplies, though, and check your leg to see how you’re doing.”

“Tonight, will you?”

“Let’s wait and see, okay? Sometimes a little spontaneity can make things more exciting.”

Peter pouted.

“I _tried_ that. Tell me again how it worked out?”

The billionaire smiled, lovingly, down at him, and reached out and touched the lower lip that was once more protruding.

“You’re so fucking adorable, Peter.”

“But not fuckable…”

He rolled away from Tony, but not out of his arms. He was pouting, but nothing would make him leave the safety and warmth of that embrace until he had to.

“ _Extremely_ fuckable, honey,” Stark assured him, pressing himself against the boy’s rear, his throbbing cock nudging his ass. “But I’m _not_ going to hurt you, again. Which means that whether we like it or not, we’re going to wait until the time’s right. Got it?”

Peter nodded, reluctantly, and felt the arms around him tighten and Tony’s lips come to his ear to kiss him. He realized, though, that the sooner he healed, the less time he was actually going to have with him. Not like they were right now, anyway. For all he knew, what they would decide was best for him was for him to end up going to a foster home, or maybe even an orphanage or something. A place that he’d be _well treated_ , he was sure; Tony would make sure of that, Peter knew. But it wouldn’t be with him, any more. The thought made him sad, and he found his eyes burning with the sting of tears.

He sniffed, and ducked his head to wipe his eyes with his shoulder.

The older man noticed immediately, of course, and he sat up, using his existing grip to turn Peter to face him, drawing him back into his arms.

“Peter?” his expression was concerned, and his eyes worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he lied. “I’m sorry.”

“Come on…” Tony tucked his head under his chin, rocking him, tenderly. “Tell me. Please?”

There was no way he was crying because he’d been told he’d have to wait to have sex. Not the woeful expression Tony had just seen before a tear had dripped from the boy’s beautiful eyelashes.

“It’s dumb.”

“Tell me. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is.”

“You can’t fix it, _anyway_ ,” Peter assured him, sniffing, again. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not the sex thing, is it?”

Better make sure, rather than be wrong.

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I’mgoingtogetbetterandthenI’mgoingtoloseyou.”

He buried his face against Tony’s chest, sniffing, again, and trying to choke back a sob, but failing.

Again, it took the older man a moment to reconfigure the sentence with spaces, and he made a soft sound and tightened his hold, pulling Peter up into his lap like a much younger child.

“You're not going to lose me, honey. You _can’t_.”

“Yes, I am. I’ll be wherever I end up, and you’ll be busy. I’ll be alone, again…”

“No, Peter. _No_ …” Tony felt his own eyes sting at the utter grief in Peter’s voice. “It won’t be like that. You’ll be someplace safe, and with people who care about you, and you’ll _still_ see me, because who else is going to teach you how to be a superhero? Huh? Who else is going to love you? We’ll figure it out.”

He hadn’t thought about that. Peter _was_ Spiderman, after all. Maybe he and Tony could meet, sometimes. Maybe he wouldn’t lose him, completely. He wouldn’t have it like it was, _now_ , but he’d known that this part of things wasn’t going to last. That was a _fairy tale_ , and Peter had learned very early on that real life didn’t have the happy endings that the storybooks his mother used to read him had.

“You promise?” he asked, childishly, but unable to help himself.

“Of course I do.” Poor baby. Tony rocked him, crooning gently to him and pressing kisses against his ear, and his tear-stained cheek. No wonder he was anxious to have all the experiences that he could; he was so certain that he was going to be sent packing as soon as possible. “You know… just because you get better, it doesn’t mean you’re leaving here, right away…”

“It _doesn’t_?”

“Of course not. We still will need to find the perfect spot for you to be. You’re going to help choose it, and it might take a while, after all, because I’m going to be incredibly picky about where I let you go – and who I let have you.”

“Oh.”

The crying had stopped, now, and the billionaire squeezed him, tightly, and then pulled away to look down at him. Peter’s eyes were red from crying, and puffy, and his cheeks were smeared, but he didn’t look quite as despondent as he had before.

“Do you trust me?” he asked the boy, smiling, softly.

“Yes.”

“Good. Now kiss me.”

Peter did what he was told and shifted so he could kiss the older man, which he did. Tony could taste the salty tears on his lips, and he licked them off, gently, before pulling back, again. Peter sighed, and wiped his eyes and cheek with his forearm.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, honey.” He kissed him, again. “Do you want me to stay home, today?”

Peter shook his head.

“No. It’s okay.”

He knew if it wasn’t important, Tony wouldn’t be going to work; he’d be staying home with him, instead.

“Okay. Let’s check out your leg, yeah? See how it looks.”

“Yeah.”

Tony let him go and got out of his bed.

“Wait here. I’ll bring the scissors to you.”

He stopped long enough to pull on pajama bottoms and then vanished, but returned a minute later, carrying the supplies needed to check and then change the bandages on Peter’s thigh. The boy pulled the blankets aside and bared his leg to the billionaire, who got back on the bed and settled in between Peter’s knees, running his hand along his uninjured leg, first, and sliding it along until he ended at the boy’s groin, his fingers tracing Peter’s cock, which wasn’t hard, yet, but was showing signs of interest in the attention.

Peter smiled, also enjoying the attention.

“It doesn’t hurt, too much,” he said, before Tony could ask.

“Good.”

Stark cut the bandages off, and they both looked at the injury.

“It doesn’t look too bad,” Peter decided. “Better than before, right?”

“Yes, I agree. We’ll put extra bandages on it, though.”

“Why?”

“Because if it doesn’t hurt as much, you won’t be as cautious, and I don’t want you to bump it trying to do more with it.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen an injury,” he reminded the boy as he started applying thick layers of bandages before wrapping the leg, again. “I want you to have clothes on, today, too, okay? Keep from getting chilled – especially if you go out on the balcony.”

“Okay.”

“But not yet,” Stark told him, his expression changing as he reached out and pushed Peter backward with a hand against his chest. “First I’d better take care of your problem, hmm? Blow on it? Make it feel better?”

Peter smiled, leaning into the pillows behind him and closing his eyes as he felt Tony’s lips find his cock and start teasing it.

“Please, Tony…”


	18. 18

“What are you doing?”

Stark looked up, startled. He hadn’t noticed Pepper had entered his office.

“Research,” he told her.

_“Porn?”_

He didn’t even scowl; she’d caught him watching an interesting video, _one time_ , and now she was never letting him live it down.

“No. I’m looking at the requirements to become a foster parent.”

“What? _Why_?”

“It’s just research.”

Pepper frowned.

“ _Because_ …?”

“It’d probably give Stark Industries a gentler face to the public if I were to sign on to be a foster parent, don't you think?”

“You understand being a foster _parent_ actually involves foster _children_ , right? _Kids_? Little people who are not adults? That require nurturing? Food?”

“I’m aware, yes.”

“Have you been _drinking_?”

“It’s just _research_ , okay? Something I’m looking into.”

“Please warn me before you make any kind of life changing decisions. So I can get ready with the denials for the press conferences.”

“It _pays_.”

She rolled her eyes. Money was the least of his concerns and they both knew it.

“What would you do with a foster kid, Tony?” she asked, realizing from his expression that it wasn’t just something he was looking at, randomly, but something he was genuinely interested in. “They require a commitment, and time, and love, and compassion. While I’m not saying you aren’t capable of that – some of them, anyway – it’s a _lot_ of responsibility.”

He sighed and turned off the display.

“Did you need something in particular?”

>>><<><<<<<> 

Peter was curled on the sofa, reading, when FRIDAY spoke up and startled him.

_“Incoming call from Tony Stark.”_

“Really?”

_“Yup.”_

The AI was as casual as any actual person, Peter already knew. It was amazing to him that Tony had been able to create her that way. He was such a _genius_.

“How do I answer it?” he asked, uncertainly.

_“Say_ accept call _, and I’ll connect you.”_

“Accept call.”

_“Peter?”_

The boy smiled.

“Hi, Tony.”

_“You doing okay?”_

“Yeah. Just reading a magazine I found in your room.”

_“Wait. Not the ones under the bed, right? The Popular Mechanics ones in the nightstand?”_

Peter chuckled; he’d found _those_ magazines, as well. It wasn’t like Tony was hiding them, after all.

“No. The Popular Mechanics one. The one about your initial suit. It’s a pretty good article.”

_“Yeah. Did you have lunch?”_

“Not, yet.”

_“Don’t forget to eat, okay?”_

“I won’t.”

_“There are some snacks in the cupboard, too; chips, crackers, granola bars – anything you want and I don’t have, just make a list, or tell FRIDAY.”_

“I’m good,” Peter assured him. “What are _you_ doing?”

_“Getting ready to go to a working lunch with some of the financial officers. All kinds of exciting. I’d much rather be there. With you.”_

Which made the boy smile, again.

“I wish you were, too. Are you having a good day?”

_“It’s okay. We’re going to barbeque on the balcony for dinner, alright?”_

“Okay.”

_“Steaks? Or chicken?”_

“Not hotdogs?”

There was a pause, and then the billionaire’s voice was amused.

_“Hotdogs, it is. I’ll be home around four.”_

“Okay.”

_“Bye, honey.”_

“Bye.”

The call ended with a mostly silent click, and Peter put the magazine aside and got up, feeling just a little sore as he did. The leg wasn’t bothering him too much, and his other aches and pains were pretty much gone. Gone enough that they didn’t really hurt him, anyway. He was pretty _tough_ , though. He’d fallen off a building more than once learning how to use his webshooters, and he’d slammed into a few walls learning how proper angles worked when swinging. Bruises for the most part – never a broken bone.

A gunshot was definitely more serious, obviously, but he healed pretty well.

He rubbed his hands on the denim of the jeans he was wearing, feeling the bulky bandage on his thigh underneath, and decided that some lunch was a good idea. He’d even do what Tony had said, earlier, and go out and eat on the balcony – which was large and airy and a grill, and another kitchen island, with several barstools, a small table, and a couple of lounge chairs for people to sit in.

He went to the fridge and pulled out the leftover lasagna. Tony had already put it in the container it could be reheated in, and he’d smiled, earlier, when he’d seen the post it note on it telling him how long to microwave it when it came time to reheat it. He heated his lunch and then carried it toward the sliding door to the balcony.

_“Put a shirt on,”_ FRIDAY told him, making him roll his eyes.

Smiling at the craziness of being nagged by a voice in the wall, he set his lunch down on the kitchen island and limped his way back to his room. Reaching in the dresser and pulling out a blue t-shirt at random. Peter grinned, though, when he saw that it had the Captain America logo on it, and pulled it on, admiring it – _and_ the fact that Tony had a pretty good sense of humor. He wondered if one of the green t-shirts would end up being an Incredible Hulk shirt, but he didn’t take time to look.

“Better?” he asked, walking back out into the living room.

_“Yes.”_

He hadn’t actually expected a response from the AI, but he chuckled and reclaimed his dinner and went out into the sunshine to eat. It was hard to be lonely when there was someone looking out for you, after all.

>><><><< 

Tony returned home at closer to four-thirty. He had a paper bag in his arm and closed the door, looking around.

“Peter? I’m home.”

_“He’s on the balcony,”_ FRIDAY informed him, helpfully.

“Vitals?”

_“Normal.”_

“Thanks.”

Stark carried his bag into the kitchen, looking out the sliding glass door that led to the balcony as he did. He saw the boy on a chaise lounger and smiled as he put the few groceries that he’d brought home away. Then he went into his room and change from the suit he’d worn to the tower into a pair of jeans and a polo shirt and went outside to join him.

Peter was asleep, he saw. Bundled in a light blanket, resting on his side, he was snoring, lightly, and drooling just a little. Tony smiled and knelt down beside him, brushing his fingertips against the porcelain cheek, softly.

“Honey?”

“Hmmm?” The brown eyes opened, unfocused for just a moment before seeing him, and the smile that followed made Tony’s heart flip-flop in his chest. God. “You’re home?”

“Yeah.” He leaned over him and kissed his temple. “Did you have a good day?”

“Mm-hmm. You?”

“I missed you.”

That made the smile grow and Peter’s hand came out of the blanket and rested against his chest, but then slid lower, until he was caressing the older man’s jeans and the suddenly growing bulge that he’d found there.

“I missed you, too, Tony.”

“How are you feeling? Still pretty worn out?”

“No.” He proved it by sitting up, and Tony smiled when he saw the Captain American t-shirt when the blanket fell to his waist. “I’m good.”

“Come inside.”

They went inside, and Tony led him into the living room, pushing him gently down onto the sofa.

“You’re still limping.”

“Not as much.” Peter reached for him, running his hands along his hips, taking advantage of the fact that the older man was still standing, which put him at the perfect level for what he suddenly was aching to do. “I’m _fine_.”

Tony made a soft, approving, noise when the boy nestled his face against the front of his jeans, and he felt himself responding immediately.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he told Peter, running his fingers through the boy’s hair with one hand and unbuttoning his jeans with the other. “Thinking about how amazing you are. And how exciting it would be if I came home and you were just waiting for me to put my cock into your mouth…”

“Yeah?”

Peter smiled at that, and reached into Stark’s boxers and pulling out his penis, stroking it as he looked up at him, eyes excited.

“Yes.” Stark reached down and moved Peter’s hand. He was aroused enough, now, to do whatever he wanted. “Open up, honey.”

The boy did as he was told and Tony slid his cock into his open mouth, careful to not push too deep.

Peter moaned around the throbbing flesh and Tony cupped his cheek.

“Watch me, Peter,” he murmured. “I want to see your eyes while you suck me.”

The boy nodded, looking up at him and tightening his lips around Tony, who was beginning to thrust himself, lightly, into his mouth.

“You’re going to learn how to deepthroat me,” the billionaire told him, his breath coming quickly already, his hips jerking himself into that warm, moist mouth. “Eventually you’ll be able to swallow all of me, any time.”

Peter moaned, again, and worked his tongue along the shaft and head of Tony’s cock each time it was pushed into him or pulled out. His hands tightened on Tony’s hips, and he nodded in agreement, but was too stuffed full of cock to say anything else just then.

“I’m going to fuck that gorgeous face of yours every day, sweetheart,” Tony said. “Make sure you always have a belly of cum when I get home.”

His hand suddenly tightened in Peter’s hair, and he held the boy still as his entire body tensed, his hips snapping forward but careful – even in his height of excitement – not to thrust too hard and gag him. Peter’s mouth was suddenly awash with cum as Tony climaxed with an excited groan and the boy swallowed as quickly as he could, his lips tightening on Tony, and his throat flexing as he swallowed everything Stark gave him, and then tried to milk him for more, eagerly.

Finally, he pulled away, releasing Tony with a slurping sound that was exciting to both of them.

“Damn… that was exciting,” Tony said, tucking himself back into his pants and then going to his knees in front of Peter and kissing him, hard, enjoying the flavor of Peter, mingled with his own. He smiled when he pulled away, and smoothed the boy’s hair where his eager hands had messed it up. “I’m not _really_ going to expect that every day when I come home, but it’s an arousing thought.”

Peter smiled.

“Yeah.”

“You okay? I didn’t go too deep?”

“No. I’m alright.”

“I hate to be selfish, but as much as I’d like to strip you down and suck you dry, I’ve invited a few people over to barbeque with us. Do you feel up to helping me peel some potatoes?”

“What? Oh. Sure.” He let Tony pull him to his feet and lead him into the kitchen. “They know I’m here?”

“They _do_. And they know you're injured.” He added as he opened a drawer and pulled out some potatoes and a couple of peelers. “They do not – _as I promised_ – know that you’re gifted and they don’t know that we like to see each other naked. Which needs to _stay_ that way, right?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

He wasn’t going to do anything to get Tony in trouble. He wouldn’t do that. Ever.

“Good. Quiet evening at home, but I thought you could use some company other than my own. Maybe get a few new contacts to put into that new phone of yours.”

Peter just nodded, dumbly, hoping that none of the people coming were part-time social workers, or something, and started peeling. Which was something that he hadn’t done in a very long time.

“What are you going to make with the potatoes?” he asked. “ _French fries_?”

Stark smiled, pulling a large kettle out and filling it with water and putting it on to boil.

“Potato salad. We’ll make enough to have leftovers for lunch, tomorrow.” He picked up the other peeler and one of the potatoes. “What did you do, today? Besides suck on my very appreciative penis?”

The boy chuckled, blushing slightly, but trying to act worldly – as if he did that sort of thing all the time.

“I slept, watched TV, read that magazine, had lunch and then fell asleep outside.”

“It’s a good thing it’s not warmer,” Tony told him, cutting the peeled potatoes into smaller chunks to make them boil faster. “You’d have sunburned.”

“Yeah. What did you do?”

Tony told him about the meetings that he’d had, and the projects that he was working on. Not Ironman suit projects, which weren’t done in his office, but in his workroom or lab. Peter didn’t know a lot about the research being done at the tower or with any of the other companies owned by Stark Industries, so he was interested, and asked intelligent questions when he didn’t understand a concept Tony brought up.

They were done with the potatoes and Tony was boiling macaroni for a pasta salad as well, when FRIDAY mentioned someone was at the apartment door.

“Get that, Peter, will you?” Stark asked, his head in the fridge looking for the mayo.

The boy nodded and went to the door, opening it. And then stood there, staring in shock. There were three people at the door, and he knew who all of them were.

Steve Rogers grinned, cheerfully; more than accustomed to seeing the look on the boy’s face. He glanced at his companions, who were also obviously amused by the surprise they were causing, and then raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, kid. _Nice shirt_.”


	19. 19

Peter blushed.

“You’re Steve Rogers.”

“In the flesh. And _you_ must be Peter.”

“Yeah.”

“Can we come in?” Rogers asked, pointedly.

“Oh. _Yeah_.” Peter moved to the side, waving for the three to enter, still staring as he closed the door. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Rogers said. “Obviously Tony didn’t tell you we were coming.”

“He said he invited a few people,” Peter replied. “Not that it was going to be _Avengers_.”

“He likes surprising people,” the woman who had entered behind the others said, looking around for just a moment, but then studying Peter, himself. “You know me?”

“Natasha Romanoff. Black Widow.” He hesitated, uncertainly, and then offered her his hand. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

She took his hand in hers, and her smile was dazzling, he decided. “It’s nice to meet you, Peter. This is James Rhodes.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, nodding and letting go of Romanoff’s hand to offer it to the other man. “War Machine, right?”

“In the flesh – so to speak.” The dark-skinned man’s gaze was just as intent as Natasha’s had been, as if they were all trying to figure him out in a single glance. “You can call me Rhodey.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“You can call _me_ Steve,” Rogers said, offering Peter his hand, as well.

“ _Really_?”

“Sure.”

“Wow.”

Romanoff smiled, clearly amused.

“You _already_ said that, Peter.”

He blushed.

“Sorry.”

She winked, silently telling him that she was only teasing.

“Good, you’re here.” They all looked over to see Tony. “You all met Peter?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Rogers, go start the grill, will you?”

“Sure.”

He left the room, heading unerringly toward the balcony – proof that he’d been there more than once for a barbeque. Rhodey followed.

Peter headed for the kitchen, as well, but his gait was a lot slower. Natasha and Tony both matched it, though, and Stark pulled out a barstool for the boy, who sat down with a grateful sigh.

“What’s for dinner, Tony?” Romanoff asked.

“Steaks and hotdogs. Potato salad, macaroni salad, chips and ice cream.”

“ _Hotdogs_ , huh?” she looked over at Peter, who blushed, again.

“I asked for them,” he admitted.

She smiled.

“I _like_ hotdogs. Good choice. Tony told us you hurt yourself,” she said, looking down at his leg, the bulk of the bandage showing on his right leg under his jeans.

“Oh. Yeah. I just got a little shot.”

“A _little_ shot, huh?” she repeated, as Tony rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go outside,” Stark suggested. “You can tell everyone the story all at once, that way.”

“Sounds good,” Romanoff said. “Got a beer for me?”

“You know where they are.”

Peter waited until she had opened the fridge and gathered three drinks for herself and the others, and left. Then he turned to Tony.

“What do I tell them?”

“The truth. You were chasing robbers and one shot you. You don’t need to mention web swinging if you don’t want to. I told them you were hurt and Happy and I found you. They also know about your aunt and uncle.” He touched Peter’s hand. “It’s a matter of public record, and Natasha is nothing if not thorough. She’ll know everything about you, by now – aside from the Spiderman thing, of course. No reason to hide it, and no reason to be afraid she’ll say anything.”

“And the others?”

“They’ll follow her lead. And mine. I promise. They’re here because you might as well meet them, and they need to meet you. Eventually, you’ll be wiling to share your alter ego with them, and they’re the ones that will know how best to utilize those abilities of yours.”

“What about you?”

“ _I’ll_ be the one who prepares you to do whatever they think needs to be done.” He smiled. “Have _fun_ , tonight, okay? They’re not here to make you nervous, they’re here to make you smile – even if they don’t know it.”

Which did make him smile.

“Okay.”

They gathered up some bags of chips and headed out to the balcony as well, and from the smoke coming from the barbeque, Rogers had obviously gotten it going. Now all three were sitting around the island, each with a beer, enjoying the view of the city the height afforded them.

“Dinner will be in half an hour or so,” Tony announced as he dropped a couple of bags on the island and made sure Peter had a cola in front of him. “Potato salad is cooling; we’re waiting on the macaroni to cool. Steaks are in the fridge, Steve.”

“And don’t forget the _hotdogs_ ,” Natasha added, winking at Peter, who smiled, self-consciously.

“The grill will be ready in plenty of time.” Rogers looked at Peter, his blue eyes twinkling with humor. “ _Tell_ me you’re a love child from Tony’s past. _Please_.”

Romanoff snorted, amused, and Rhodey laughed, outright. Peter felt a warm feeling bubbling up inside him as they allowed him to be a part of their cheer. It had been a long time.

“Nothing like that,” he said. “Sorry. Tony and Happy helped me out the other day.”

They were all watching him, now, and Tony came over to stand next to him, leaning on the island near where he sat.

“It’s a _good_ story,” Stark said. “Filled with me being heroic.”

Romanoff rolled her eyes, but all of them were looking at him, still, waiting for him to tell the story, not Tony.

So he did.

It wasn’t even all that edited. He mentioned walking by the store that was being robbed, and thinking that he might be able to help and had chased them. And had been shot. He was also upfront with them as to why he hadn’t wanted to go to a hospital and speak to the police, admitting that he was living on his own and his family were all gone. And that he didn’t want to find himself in a situation that he was a ward of the state and being forced into a home he didn’t want to be in.

The others listened without comment, and when Peter was finished, he shrugged.

“Tony said we’d figure it out, so I guess that’s the next step.”

“Once he’s a little healthier,” Stark added.

“Must be crazy being right up close with _Ironman_ ,” Rhodey said, smiling.

“I met him before,” the boy said. Then he hesitated. “ _Kind of_.”

“Yeah?” This was news to Tony. “When?”

“During the Expo. When the metal drones all went crazy.”

“You were there?” Rhodey asked, curiously.

“Yeah. I was little. May and Ben took me, but we got separated. One of them came at me, but Tony – well, _Ironman_ – saved me from it. He even _spoke_ to me. It was pretty exciting. And _scary_.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

Tony moved to the wall near the balcony door and swiped a hand across it, activating an invisible display.

“FRIDAY. Archival footage. Hammer Expo. External monitoring. Find me a little kid that I spoke to.”

“You save all that stuff?” Peter asked, surprised, as the display went crazy with images.

“I save _everything_ , Peter,” Tony told him, smiling.

The screen stopped, showing a little kid in an Ironman mask, standing in front of a giant droid, holding a hand up as if to stop it. And then being startled when the thing exploded. All four of the adults fell silent, and Tony played it, again, this time freezing the image when they heard the suit tell the kid he’d done a nice job and take off.

“That’s _you_?” Natasha asked, walking over to get a closer look, her hand sliding to Peter’s shoulder.

He nodded.

“Yeah.” The boy looked at Tony. “Can I have a copy of that?”

Stark was silent, staring at the screen, his expression unreadable.

“Tony?”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Can I have a copy of that?” Peter repeated.

“Sure.”

“I want one, too,” Steve said.

Romanoff chuckled, impulsively hugging Peter from behind, almost hitting him with the beer bottle still in her hand.

“You bastard! An _Avenger_ born!”

Peter smiled. And flushed, recognizing it as high praise.

“I was _little_ ,” he reminded her. “And dumb.”

“Pretty impressive,” Steve told him. “Maybe I should be wearing a shirt with _your_ picture on it, instead?”

The boy’s blush went brilliant, and they all laughed.

“Bring me the steaks, Tony,” Rogers ordered. “Let’s eat.”

“Don’t forget my hotdogs,” Romanoff reminded him, her hand still on Peter’s shoulder. “And ketchup.”

“And _mustard_ ,” the boy added.

“And mustard.”

Stark rolled his eyes, pleased at how happy Peter looked, and went to do as he’d been told.

Perfect. Even better than he'd planned, really.


	20. 20

“Did you have a good time?”

Peter’s smile was answer enough, but he nodded all the same.

“It was _fun_. I like them.”

“Yeah. They’re good people.” He looked around the balcony, which was littered with dirty dishes, empty potato chip bags and beer bottles. “ _Slobs_ , though. The lot.”

The boy chuckled, stacking the plates to carry into the kitchen.

“They offered to help clean up," he reminded him."You mentioned the housekeeper was coming, tomorrow, and sent them all home.”

“They were _supposed_ to insist, Peter,” the billionaire huffed, dumping trash into a garbage bag he was holding in his free hand. “That’s what you do. No matter what the host says.”

“It won’t take long to clean it up.”

“How’s the leg? You’ve been on it a bit.”

“I slept all day, though,” he reminded him. “It’s not too bad.”

“The doctor is going to be by in the morning to check it,” the older man said. “We’ll get a better idea of how you’re doing, then.”

“Pretty sure I’m doing good. It feels good. _I_ feel good.”

Stark smiled, and dumped the bottles into the bag, as well, watching as the rest of the dishes were stacked up.

“We’ll save the rest for the housekeeper. Let me help you with those dishes.”

They carried the dishes inside, closing the balcony door behind them.

“You’ll notice Steve ate the last of the potato salad? That means we don’t get any for lunch tomorrow.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m going to take a personal day, tomorrow,” Stark told the boy. “I want to be here, obviously, when the doctor checks your leg. If he says it’s safe, would you like to go somewhere – get out and get some fresh air?”

The boy's expression was clearly interested.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. Think about it, okay? We’ll wait and see what the doctor say, though.”

No sense going crazy and damaging all the good they'd done so far with that leg, after all.

“Okay.”

“Go get ready for bed,” the billionaire said, shooing Peter out of the kitchen with a hand and a smile. “Teeth brushed, face washed and not a stitch of clothing.”

Peter did as he was told, limping slightly, despite telling Tony that he felt good. Stark watched him vanish into his bedroom, and turned to finish loading the dishwasher.

><<<>>><<<> 

Peter was stretched out under the blankets when Tony walked into his darkened bedroom. He’d clearly stopped in his own room, first, because he, too, was ready for bed, and had no intention of sleeping alone. He slipped off the pajama bottoms that he’d been wearing and set a tube of lube on the stand by the bed before pulling the blankets back and joining Peter under them, scooting close to the boy.

“Still awake?”

“Yes.” Peter cuddled up against Stark, his hand sliding along his chest as he hugged him. “Thanks for tonight. It was fun.”

“I’m glad.” He tilted the boy’s head up toward him and kissed him, tenderly. “Your night isn’t over, though, honey.”

“No?”

In response, the billionaire ran his hand down Peter’s chest, along his belly and then to his pelvis, his fingers searching for – and finding – the boy’s cock. He stroked him as he kissed him, feeling the organ swell under his touch, and capturing Peter’s approving moan in his mouth.

“No.” Tony kissed Peter, once more, and then moved away from him, pulling the blankets back, out of the way, and rolling the boy onto his back. “Open your legs.”

He did as he was told, and Tony moved between them.

“Tony…”

“It’s okay, Peter,” he murmured. “Let’s talk for just a moment, though, okay?”

Preferably before he had hold of Peter and would be able to talk him into _anything_.

“Alright.”

“I’m going to make love to you, tonight.”

“Yes… please…”

“You want me?”

“Yes, Tony…” his hips bucked, without Stark even touching him, and precum was trickling from the boy, who looked up at him, as if worried he might be leading to a but. _I’m going to make love to you, but..._ Stark had no such willpower. He _wanted_ to be inside Peter, again. Wanted to love him all night, gently, furiously, somewhere in between. _All of it_.

“Shhh…” he calmed the boy with a touch, leaning down and kissing his chest, teasing his nipples, one at a time, licking them and then blowing softly on them, smiling as they hardened from the attention. “We’re going to go slow, okay? I’m in charge. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“You’re so beautiful, honey.” His lips went lower, his tongue leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nibbles along Peter’s stomach and then licked the boy’s swollen cock, lapping precum and teasing the underside of the head. “So delicious.”

Peter’s breath caught in his throat and he arched against the touch. Tony smiled, always pleased by how responsive Peter was. He took him into his mouth and began sucking on him, drawing him all the way to the root, his tongue working all the surface of Peter’s cock while the boy writhed under his attention. Peter cried out, unable to hold himself completely still, or quiet.

“Yes… Oh, please, Tony… don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

Stark grunted, his mouth too full to answer, and turned back to what he was doing, sending a shiver of excitement down the length of the boy’s cock and beyond when he started to caress his testicles with his hand. Peter moaned and climaxed, unable to hold out and not trying to. His hips bucked up against Tony’s mouth and the billionaire drank him down, swallowing his cum with noisy pleasure while Peter shuddered with release.

Tony smiled down at the boy, who was watching him with an almost drunken expression, and then he bent his head and started again, tenderly taking the ultra-sensitive shaft back into his mouth, sucking Peter, licking him and teasing him until once again he was throbbing and hard. The boy put his hand on Tony’s head, stroking his hair, watching as the older man’s incredibly talented mouth played his entire length like an instrument and once more, after a longer period of time, Tony patiently coaxed an orgasm from the boy.

“Tony…” he was breathless by now, and limp with the euphoria that comes with the sensation with having his insides turned out.

Stark let go of his penis and moved up on him, kissing him, tenderly.

“You’re doing great, honey.”

Peter reached down between them, feeling the hard throbbing of Tony’s cock brushing his belly and then his thigh as the billionaire moved over him.

“Please…”

“We’re getting there… shhh.”

Now Tony kissed him, quieting him with his mouth and tongue, his lips claiming his, and then moving to brush trails of moisture along his cheek, then his jaw and then lower to his chest. While his mouth moved, his hand did, as well. Peter was too distracted to notice that Tony had reached for the lube, but he didn’t miss the slick hand that suddenly found its way between them, along his once more aroused penis and then along his crack.

He gasped as Tony’s lips closed over his nipple, and Tony’s finger nudged its way into his tight ass the same time. Tony switched to the other nipple, his tongue marking its path, while that finger moved within Peter, sliding along his insides, looking for the spot that Peter didn’t even know existed until he found it and the boy jumped, a mixture of shock and pleasure crossing his beautiful features.

_“Tony!”_

Stark chuckled against Peter’s chest.

“Liked that, did you?”

“God…” His body moved on its own, trying to position that finger, again, helpless under Tony’s touch.

Tony wet his fingers with more lube and added another into the boy, stretching him, preparing him, and once more finding his prostrate and making him writhe with ecstasy at the simple touch.

“You’re so responsive, Peter,” Tony crooned, approvingly. He was laying somewhat on the boy, now, his weight trying to hold him still, even though Peter was a lot stronger than he was. He'd been right about that. “This isn’t supposed to hurt, so make sure you tell me if it does. Understand?”

“Yes. _Please_ , Tony… it hurts when you’re not inside me. Please…”

He kissed his jaw.

“It’s going to happen, my love. We’re almost there. Stay with me. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A third finger had Peter again begging. Wriggling and pressing against the invasion that felt so good to him, had him begging for more. Tony ignored his pleas, working the boy ruthlessly until he finally was sobbing with want. Only then. He shifted, his legs parting Peter’s even more, if possible, and his slick cock sliding along Peter’s crack to stop at his hole. He held himself in position with one hand and gathered the boy with his other, forcing that unrelenting rod of flesh against that still tight entrance, the head forcing its way past the first tight ring of muscles that resisted Tony for a moment and then held him once he made his way through.

Peter moaned, bringing his feet up, wrapping them tightly around Tony’s hips to keep him from escaping, but Stark had no intention of going anywhere but deeper. He continued to press, until with a final, gentle thrust, he was completely inside Peter and had once more claimed him as his own.

“Okay?”

The boy nodded, his hands on Tony’s shoulders, and Stark began to fuck him, pulling back, then easing forward, the motions forcing moans and sighs of pleasure from both of them. He picked up his pace, his hips eager, now, driving him deep and then pulling him out, only to repeat the process.

“You’re so perfect, honey,” Stark grunted, smiling at the flush created by the praise – and the thrust that accompanied it. “So tight. So strong. And brave. So perfect. So fuckable. Do you believe me, now, Peter? How much I wanted your ass. Wanted to be inside you…”

He leaned back just enough to allow himself to watch as he slid into Peter, again and again, faster and with more force as their ardor grew and his rhythm increased. His hands reached for Peter’s ankles and he held them, anchoring himself as his hips snapped forward, again, again, Peter crying with pleasure at each thrust. It was so hot to watch the lithe, young, body under him, taking him so eagerly, so willingly.

Tony slammed himself forward, burying himself deep into Peter’s ass and came with a triumphant grunt, washing Peter’s insides with hot, boiling, cum. He let go of his ankle and was still jerking inside the boy when his hand found Peter’s cock, demanding with forceful strokes that the boy release himself once more, too. Peter cried out Tony’s name as he came, as well, spraying both of them with ropes of cum and trembling as Tony released his cock and collapsed on top of him, also shuddering and panting.

The boy brought his arms around Tony, holding him close, and Stark chuckled, wearily, into Peter’s neck.

“Now you know who you belong with and who you belong to, don’t you?” he asked, softly.

“To _you_ …”

“Absolutely.”

He kissed Peter’s neck, feeling his balls try to empty just a little more into Peter’s ass, but his rapidly deflating and incredibly sensitive penis sliding out of the boy.

“That was so good…”

“ _You’re_ so good,” Tony told him, reaching for their blankets to cover them, even as he shifted off Peter’s slender frame and cuddled him up against his chest, tucking his head against his shoulder, running his fingers through his sweat-drenched hair. “It seemed like you enjoyed it.”

“B+,” Peter murmured, into his skin, his voice telling Tony immediately that there wasn’t going to be an immediate round two. He was already falling asleep; giving into the euphoria and the aftermath of a good, hot fucking. “Maybe an A-.”

Tony chuckled, and closed his eyes.

“I can live with that.”

He was a perfectionist, true, but Peter was his project, and there was plenty of time to fine tune their techniques.


	21. 21

Peter woke the next morning alone in his bed, but the warm space beside him was indication that Tony hadn’t been gone long. The boy rolled, slightly, his face burying into the sheet and mattress, breathing in deeply Tony’s scent as he stretched, feeling pleasantly sore and delightfully satiated. As well he _should_ , since sometime in the middle of the night, the billionaire had woken him with a gentle kiss and a demanding touch, his already throbbing cock eager to have another go at the boy.

They’d taken their time exploring each other, hands and mouths everywhere, lips and tongues tasting, teasing and arousing. Tony showed Peter how to excite him and gave him all the time he needed to put those techniques into play, allowing the boy to feel just what it was like to have someone under you, writhing in pleasure. It culminated when Tony had claimed Peter once more, this time putting him on his belly and taking him from behind to give him a much better understanding of just how it should have felt the first time the older man had covered him.

Peter didn’t have any complaints.

He sighed, enjoying the feel of the sheets around him, and then looked up when Tony was suddenly there, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed, wearing only pajama bottoms. Stark ran his hand along Peter’s back, sliding his hand to cup his ass cheek, gently.

“Good morning.”

Peter smiled up at him, adorably tousled and looking, appropriately enough, as though he'd been thoroughly fucked the night before. Tony decided it looked good on him.

“Morning.”

“How do you feel?”

“A little tired,” Peter admitted.

“Sore?”

“Only a little. A _good_ sore. If that makes any sense.”

“Oh, it _does_.” Tony’s cock was a good sore, too. “We need to get you up and ready for your day, alright? The doctor is going to be here in an hour or so and we need you fed, cleaned up and sitting on the couch.”

Peter stretched, bones making crackling noises and looking like a pleased cat as he nodded, but he reached for the front of Stark’s pajama pants and pulled them down, baring the billionaire’s limp penis.

“I want you inside me, Tony.”

“Oh, that’s _going_ to happen, honey,” Tony assured him, kneeling on the bed and allowing his cock to hang in front of Peter’s face, near his mouth. The boy captured it with his lips and tongued it, but Tony reluctantly pulled away after a moment of pure bliss. “We don’t have time, right now, though. Come on, I’ll help you get cleaned up, then you can get dressed.”

Peter pouted at having lost what was fast becoming his favorite toy, but he did what he was told, allowing Tony to help him into the bathroom, where the older man had him lean up on the vanity by the sink once more and proceeded to wash him with soap and water and washcloths.

“Once your leg is better, we’ll be able to explore all the fun that comes with showering together,” Tony promised him, the washcloth carefully wiping Peter’s entire body, being careful with his rear – in case he was more tender than the boy was telling him – and then ending with his penis, which twitched, but showed little interest in much activity after the night before. “And _bathing_. That’s fun, too.”

“Yeah?” Peter smiled, his eyes watching Tony’s face, loving the way his expression was so intense, when all he was doing was something so mundane. “You have pretty eyes, Tony,” he finally said. “Did you know that? They’re intelligent. And so focused.”

The billionaire smiled, meeting Peter’s gaze, and those chocolate eyes that he loved so much.

“Are you trying to seduce me, young man?” he asked, teasing him, gently.

Peter blushed, pleased that he’d made him look so happy.

“Is that how it’s done?”

Stark kissed him.

“That’s a good start.” He dried Peter off, and put his arms around him. “I think you’re done. Get dressed, okay? I’m going to take a shower, and then you can help me make breakfast.”

><<<><><>> 

They had barely cleared the breakfast dishes when FRIDAY announced the doctor at the door. The man was older, not much bigger than Peter, himself, and carried a quiet authority that made him think he was used to telling people what to do. He also was very kind as he greeted the boy, knowing that Peter wouldn’t have remembered the first time they met.

“How’s the leg?” he asked both of them, moving to sit on the coffee table in front of where Peter was sitting on the sofa.

“It looks good, Robert,” Tony replied.

“Drop your pants, son,” the doctor ordered Peter, who blushed and did as he was told, losing the jeans, and glad he hadn’t decided to put on the Ironman boxers like Tony had suggested when the billionaire had come out of his shower wearing his. “Now sit down. Tony, hand me those scissors.”

“Robert’s one of the doctors at the Avenger’s facility,” Tony explained to Peter as the man started cutting through the bandages Stark had put on the thigh the day before.

“Really?” Peter asked, interested.

“That’s me. Fixing up young hot-heads all day, keeping the older ones from trying to keep up with them.”

“I _know_ you didn’t just look at me when you said old,” Stark said.

“You’re not as old as _Steve_ …”

“Like _that’s_ saying anything, the guy’s a hundred.”

The doctor snorted, and turned his attention to the wound he’d bared. He ran careful fingers along the scabbed over injury and nodded, watching Peter’s reaction as he did.

“Hurt?”

“No. It’s not too bad,” Peter replied, honestly.

“Steve said you were limping last night, but just a little.”

“Yeah. I feel it when I walk, but no sharp pains or anything.”

“Is that about right?” Tony asked. “Should we keep him off it, more?”

“No. It’s muscle damage, Tony. It’s going to hurt when he uses the muscle. Young guy like him, though, they heal fast and they’re impossible to hold down once they stop hurting too much. It looks good. Much better than I expected, really, considering how it looked when I first saw it.”

"That's a relief."

“We’ll keep it covered, but he’s probably safe to be on it a bit.” The doctor gave Peter a hard look. “If it starts bothering you, you sit down and rest it for a while. Don’t undo all the good we’ve done by pushing too hard. Understood?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” They all watched as he expertly covered it and then wrapped and taped it. “Go ahead and get dressed.”

The doctor pulled a supply of medical equipment from the bag he’d brought and stacked it on the coffee table, and addressed Stark.

“Keep it dry. I’ll want to see him in a week or so.”

Tony nodded, and smiled over at Peter.

“Maybe we’ll save you the house call and I’ll bring him up to the compound.”

The boy grinned, excitedly, and the doctor snorted.

“You do that. It’s a pleasant change from day after day of physicals and training injuries.”

He finished what he was doing, made very little small talk – which didn’t really surprise Peter – and then left.

Tony smiled, and looked at Peter, expectantly.

“We’ll, it’s not a clean bill of health, but I suppose that would have been too much to ask for with a gunshot wound. Where do we go to celebrate?”

“Really? We’re still going out?”

“He said we could – as long as you tell me if it starts hurting so we can get you off it. What would you like to do?”

“Can we go to the tower?”

“No.” Stark chuckled and kissed him to make him lose the disappointed look. “If we go there today, I’m going to end up bombarded with people wanting me to make decisions. How about we do save a trip to the tower for tomorrow – since it’ll be a weekend, and then I’ll show you around while no one is there? I’ll even show you my workroom, if you’re interested.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“Wow.”

“Don’t be surprised if I bend you over the table and have my way with you, though,” he warned the boy, touching his cheek. “The only thing more exciting than working is you.”

Peter chuckled, and then his expression got excited.

“Can we go to Coney Island?”

Tony frowned.

“You sure you’re up to that?”

It was an _amusement park_ , after all, and a lot of excitement, and a lot of walking.

“Yeah. I’ve never been. _Please_ , Tony?”

The billionaire didn’t have a chance; those big, beautiful eyes were so excited. So hopeful. He melted, and then caved.

“If that’s what you want to do, then absolutely. Go put some shoes on. I’ll get changed into jeans and we’ll make a day of it.”

Peter hurried as much as he could into the bedroom, his whole being radiating excitement, and Tony shook his head, amused with himself for falling for a pair of pretty eyes.

Or maybe being complimented. Who knew?

“Who cares?” he muttered, smiling, as he headed into his own room.


	22. 22

“Wow… you look like _shit_.”

Tony couldn’t even muster the energy to scowl at Happy, who opened the car door for him. He might _look_ like shit – and he probably _did_ – but he felt much worse than that.

“I wouldn’t advise taking any corners too sharply,” he warned, crawling into the back of the car, shakily. “Otherwise you’re going to be cleaning up carnival food vomit over the weekend.”

The driver smirked, and smiled at Peter, who followed Tony into the back of the car.

“He’s paying the price for trying to keep up with you, huh?”

“Yeah. I think so. Thanks for coming to get us.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t let him throw up, again, okay? I have a date this weekend, and I want to use the car to impress her.”

Peter nodded, moving to sit beside Tony, who had leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes, miserable. The partition between the front and back was closed, so he couldn’t see when the driver got into the front, but he heard the door close and then the motor started.

“We’ll be home, soon, Tony,” Peter assured him, brushing his fingers along the clammy cheek, following the line of facial hair along the billionaire’s jaw. “Hang in there, okay?”

Stark nodded and allowed his cheek to come rest on Peter’s bony shoulder, but he never opened his eyes.

Peter watched as they pulled away from the entrance to the park, and stroked Tony’s hair, reassuringly, hoping to avoid another explosion of projectile vomiting.

Stark had driven them there, saying there was no need to bother Happy, since they weren’t going to be buying a lot of things, and they had no set schedule so it wouldn’t be fair to have the driver take them the hour it took to get there from the apartment, make him wait for them all day only to drive them back. Not when he was perfectly capable of driving, and Peter hadn’t had a chance to have Tony chauffeur him around in one of the sportscars, yet.

Besides, they were having a _fun_ day, not a work day.

Peter had looked the place up during the drive, mentioning the Cyclone and the Thunderbolt, both being rollercoasters, and asking if he was interested, or would rather do something a bit less problematic, like the carousel or something. With his pride stung (and still a little annoyed at being called old by the doctor), Tony had reminded the boy that he was _Ironman_. He flew around at dizzying speeds all the time.

He could handle anything Coney Island could throw at him.

Peter had smiled, excitedly, resting his hand on Tony’s thigh during the drive, and thanking him again for taking him. Stark had simply smiled, his hand resting over the boy’s when he wasn’t shifting, and asking what else they had as far as entertainment there, as he hadn’t been to Coney Island since he was a teen, and he wasn’t wiling to put a year on that last visit.

When they arrived, they decided to have lunch, first. Without the press of fangirls, fanboys and paparazzi, Tony Stark was just another good-looking guy shepherding an excited youngster, going eagerly from one food vendor to the next, indulgently buying the boy whatever he looked at – even though Peter had tried to tell him that it wasn’t necessary. Even more, he offered Tony some of whatever he was eating, wanting to share the experience in a way that he hadn’t had someone to share with for so long – and Tony had taken everything offered, unwilling to say no to him.

As a result, though, the billionaire had eaten more carnival food than was probably good for him, even though it paled in comparison to how much _Peter_ ate. Nothing was safe as they made their way from one end of the boardwalk toward the rides; burgers, fries, nachos, Chinese food, cotton candy, corndogs with extra mustard, a slice of pizza, they had a sampling of all of it. And in some cases, much more than a sample.

And then they’d hit the rides.

Peter was young and had an Iron stomach. Tony was _Ironman_ , and was not so fortunate. The first roller coaster had been alright. The second one not too bad. After that, though, Tony had gone from having a good time simply being with Peter, to feeling a little queasy and then to unexpectedly throwing up just as they were exiting another round of the Thunderbolt – which was much more intricate a ride than the Cyclone.

The boy had immediately been concerned, but Tony had waved it off, reminding him that they were eating from public food stalls and someone had probably not cooked something completely. Something like that. He’d sat out the next ride, and had shooed Peter away, telling him to go ahead and ride without him. Peter hadn’t left him, though. Even watching the rides move seemed to be too much for Tony’s stomach, now that the dam was breached, and he was definitely looking green one minute and pale the next.

Peter had mooched a wet cloth from one of the closer vendors and had lovingly wiped Tony’s clammy face, and suggested they should get him home. Stark had objected, not wanting to end the good time the boy was having, well aware that they had been few and far between, lately. Peter insisted, though, and won, reminding Tony they could always come back a different day and pointing out that they weren’t going to have fun if he couldn’t keep his stomach under control. He was _fine_ , he promised.

Then, he’d taken Tony’s phone and called Happy to come get them. By then, just watching the rides had pretty much turned Tony inside out and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to drive them home. The driver had told Peter to hang on; he’d be right there, and he’d bring someone else to deliver the sportscar home, as well.

Closing his eyes and not doing more than simply sipping on the bottle of water Peter had brought him had helped Tony get more control over his stomach by the time Happy pulled up at the entrance. Peter’s gentle touch and tender coaxing had been enough to get him on his feet and to the car, along with a steadying hand on the boy’s shoulder. He was mostly asleep by the time they pulled into the parking garage of the apartment, and it had taken every bit of persuasion Peter possessed to get him out of the car, and even that might not have been enough if Tony hadn’t heard Happy tell the boy he’d just carry him up to the apartment and put him to bed.

_That_ particular image had made Tony open his eyes and force himself upright.

“I’m good…”

The driver didn’t look convinced, but Tony clenched his stomach muscles and forced himself out of the car, leaning heavily on Peter, now.

“You’re sure?”

He still looked pretty green, after all.

“Yeah. Peter can get me to my bed.”

Happy looked at Peter, who nodded.

“Yeah. I’ve got him. Thanks for rescuing us.”

“He didn’t _rescue_ us,” Tony corrected. “I could have driven us.”

Peter rolled his eyes, amused, and the driver shook his head with a smile.

“Don’t hurt that leg, okay?”

“I’ll be careful. Thanks.”

With a firm grip on Tony, and taking a lot more of his weight that it appeared he was, he got the two of them into the elevator. The moment the doors closed and the car lurched upward, though, the billionaire lost the tenuous control he had on his stomach and heaved, again, only staying on his feet because Peter’s grip hadn’t wavered.

On the plus side, there wasn’t anything left in his stomach and his heaves were dry heaves that sounded horrible, hurt like hell, but didn’t soil either of them.

“I’ve got you,” Peter told him, holding on until the heaving – and the elevator – both stopped.

When the door opened, Peter just scooped Tony into his arms and carried him to his bedroom, putting him carefully onto the bed.

“FRIDAY?” Peter said, easing the older man’s vomit soiled shirt off his body. “What do I do with someone who has been throwing up?”

_“Keep them still, and hydrated. As long as it isn’t illness related, it will pass – usually in 24 hours.”_

“Hear that?” Peter said, brushing Tony’s hair back, comfortingly. “You’re fine.”

“Yeah…” Tony didn’t open his eyes, but he did catch Peter’s hand. “Your leg?”

“I’m good. I’m going to undress you.”

“And then I’ll fuck you.”

Peter smiled.

“Probably not.”

He unbuttoned Tony’s jeans and pulled his shoes and socks off. Then it was a simple matter to slide his pants and boxers off, leaving the billionaire naked. Then, since Tony was on the blankets, he pulled a blanket off his bed and covered him with it, tucking it around him and making sure to roll him on his side when FRIDAY suggested it. He stopped and grabbed a bottle of water for later, setting it on the nightstand.

“How do you feel?” he whispered cuddling up behind Stark (not willing to test being in front of him, just then).

_“Terrible.”_

Tony sighed, feeling comforted, though, having Peter against him.

“Poor baby…” Peter ran his hand, soothingly, along Tony’s arm, over the blanket. This one was on him, and he knew it – even though Tony had made the choices that had led up to it. “You can pick where we go, next time.”

“I can tell you where we’re _not_ going…” Tony whispered, already starting to drift off, now that he was warm, wasn’t moving, and was wrapped in loving arms that were caressing him.

Peter smiled, nuzzling a gentle kiss against his ear.

“Go to sleep, Tony.”


	23. 23

When he woke, he was warm and in bed. He wasn’t completely sure that he remembered _going_ to bed, but he definitely remembered getting back to the apartment, and just how miserable he’d been. Tony held himself still, trying to get an idea of how he felt, _now_ , waiting to see if his stomach was still rebelling. He sighed, a combination of relief and annoyance with himself, glancing at his watch and finding it was well into the middle of the night; hours after they’d have arrived home.

Then he realized that he wasn’t alone in the bed, judging by the arm that was flung over his side, hand resting on his hip. Peter’s hand. He turned in the boy’s embrace and saw that Peter had wrapped himself around his body, spooning him from behind. Fully dressed and wearing what he’d been in when they’d left the apartment that morning, it was obvious that he’d simply stripped him and put Tony to bed and had then fallen asleep where they lay. Probably trying to comfort him, if Tony remembered correctly the last words he’d heard before falling asleep.

As if to confirm that, Peter reacted to his motion, his hand moving to pet him.

“Shhh… I’m here… go to sleep…”

The billionaire lay still for a moment, watching, waiting for the boy to open his eyes, but he didn’t. When Tony stilled, Peter went back to sleep. Tony watched him sleep. He looked so young, which Tony knew that he _was_ , of course, but even asleep there was a hurt about him. Or maybe it was an anxiety. He could hide it, sometimes, when he was awake, but it was his default state, not surprisingly. Stark wanted to kiss him or hug him, whatever it took to make it go away, but it wasn’t that easy, he knew. This was a hurt that had been with him so long, now, that it was a part of him.

Something that wasn’t going to simply vanish with a few solid meals and some affection.

Tony carefully untangled himself from the boy, and the blanket, and slid out off of the bed. He needed the bathroom, but more importantly, he needed to brush his teeth and get rid of the taste of stale vomit that lingered in his mouth. Wordlessly, he covered the sleeping boy with the blanket and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him to avoid disturbing Peter.

“FRIDAY? What time did we come in?”

_“Four-thirty-seven.”_

“Peter brought me?”

_“Correct.”_

When he was done in the bathroom, he felt a little better, anyway. He sat down, still naked, on the edge of the bed and picked up the bottle of water from the bedside, opening it and drinking it down. His stomach roiled, and he wondered if he’d been pressing his luck. Holding still, waiting to see if the water was going to reappear, he felt the boy moving behind him in the bed, again.

“Tony?”

He sounded much more asleep than awake, and Stark turned, and stretched out beside him, his hand coming to palm his cheek as he opened his eyes.

“Hi, honey.”

“How do you feel?”

Those wonderful eyes looked worried, and sleepy, but Tony smiled, trying to ease _that_ concern, anyway.

“Better. How long have I been asleep?”

Peter closed his eyes, ready to go back to sleep.

“What time is it?”

“Two-thirty.”

“Nine hours.”

“That long?”

That was _unheard_ of. The billionaire hadn’t slept more than five hours at a time since… well, he couldn’t even remember.

“Think so…”

He wasn’t completely awake.

“How long have _you_ been asleep?”

“A few hours.”

Meaning that he’d been concerned and had watched over him while he’d slept – just in case something had happened. Which also explained why _Tony_ had slept so long, of course. Peter had soothed him back to sleep any time he’d tried to wake.

“Did you eat?”

“At the park.”

“Since then?”

“No.”

“We need to get a meal in you.”

“I’m _sleepy_.”

“I don’t want you skipping meals, now that we’re finally getting some weight on you.”

“I’ve missed meals before,” Peter pointed out, still not opening his eyes, allowing the warmth of the blanket to lull him back to sleep.

Tony wasn’t having any of that. Besides, _he_ was wide awake, now, and fidgety with excess energy.

“Come on, honey,” he whispered, leaning over to nuzzle Peter’s ear and press tiny kisses against his cheek. “We’ll eat something and then you can go back to sleep.”

“ _Tony_ …”

“Come on. I want you fed.”

Peter groaned, and opened his eyes, realizing that the older man wasn’t going to let him go back to sleep. He sighed and sat up as Tony pulled the blankets back.

“Nothing too crazy.”

He would eat and go back to sleep. No four course meal or something.

“Okay.”

Tony retrieved a pair of pajama bottoms from the dresser and pulled Peter out of the bed, almost bodily, since he wasn’t in any hurry to get up. With one arm around him, and still pressing kisses against his cheek to try to wake him, he guided his young lover to the kitchen island and seated him on a bar stool so he’d be able to talk to him while he cooked.

Peter put his head in his hand, immediately, resting it braced on his elbow. And closed his eyes.

“We’ll just have omelets,” Tony told him, pulling a pan out and heading to the fridge for the ingredients. “Nothing too extravagant, okay?”

“Yeah.”

He already knew that he had to cook Peter’s eggs extra well done; the boy didn’t like runny eggs, and that included the inside of an omelet.

“Ham?”

“Yeah.”

“Cheese?”

“Yeah.”

“Spinach?”

“Yeah.”

_“Olives?”_

“Okay.”

Tony rolled his eyes, well aware that Peter hated olives. He reached over the island and brushed his fingers against the boy’s cheek.

“Hey?”

Peter opened his eyes.

“Hmmm?”

“Wake up.”

The boy sat up, clearly making an effort, and opened his eyes, wider, watching with forced interest as Stark chopped ham and some onions and spinach, grated cheese and then put together a couple of quick omelets. He slid Peter’s out of the pan, expertly, and onto a plate, placing it in front of the boy, and handing him a fork. The boy nibbled on it, for a moment, and then put the fork down, and let his head fall to his arm, which was resting on the cool marble of the island.

When Tony slid his omelet onto his own plate and turned back to Peter to make sure that he didn’t need anything, the boy’s eyes were closed, once again, his midnight snack mostly untouched. Stark snorted, torn between annoyed and concerned, and then smiled.

“Fine. You’re sleepy. I _get_ it.”

He gave him a few minutes to allow the enticing odor of the meal to wake him, while Tony wolfed down his own, but when his was gone and Peter’s was untouched, he  came around to Peter’s side of the island and scooped the boy, gently, up into his arms. Peter mumbled something, turning his head, his face nestling against Tony’s neck, and was still.

The billionaire carried him back into his bedroom, braced him carefully in one hand while pulling back the blankets and then smoothly undressed him, realizing for the first time that Peter was still wearing his shoes, even. Once he had the boy properly naked, Tony got him back into the bed, stripped out of his pajamas and joined him under the blankets, sliding easily against him.

Peter reached for him in his sleep, his head going to his chest, his hand sliding along his belly. Tony stilled, tense, waiting for the boy to go lower, but Peter’s caress ended along his hip, instead, and he sighed, contentedly, and was quiet. Tony grumbled silently to himself, his own body pretty much wide awake and definitely interested in an early morning/late night tryst.

Instead, he gathered Peter a little closer, sifting his fingers through the boy’s curls, and allowed himself to relax and simply enjoy holding him.

That was fine, too. Just not as physical.


	24. 24

When he woke, he was aware of a few things all at once.

It was daytime; there was light coming through the lightly shaded windows of Tony’s bedroom. He wasn’t alone in the bed; Tony’s mouth was nuzzling his neck, lips kissing and tongue sliding wetly along his jaw, and the older man had draped Peter’s leg over his own, opening him and bringing him right up against his pelvis, where Tony was stroking them both, holding them together and lavishing them with exquisite attention.

The boy moaned his appreciation of waking up to the sensation and heard Tony chuckle close to his ear.

“Are you awake?” he whispered.

Peter nodded, sliding his hand down to meet Tony’s, running a finger along the head of the billionaire’s already aroused cock.

“Mm-hmm…”

“I need you, Peter…” his voice was urgent, his entire body tense. “ _Please_ …”

In response to the ache he could hear in Tony’s voice, Peter pulled himself from Tony’s grasp and moved, turning himself onto his stomach and opening his thighs.

“Fuck me, Tony,” he told him, softly, still clearing the sleepiness from his system but more than willing to be claimed by the older man. Especially if he was that anxious, and needed him so badly. It was intoxicating to be so wanted, really. “Whatever you want.”

Stark groaned, and rose up, immediately taking position between Peter’s legs, sliding a pillow under his belly, and then nudging his knees even further apart as his hands went to the boy’s ass. He’d been awake for hours, watching Peter sleep, pressing his cock against Peter’s soft skin and waiting for him to wake, until he simply hadn’t been able to wait any longer. No one had ever accused him of being patient. 

He wasn’t so far gone, though, that he was going to have a repeat of their first time. _That_ was never going to happen, again.

He lubed his fingers and slid one into Peter’s tight hole, pressing tender kisses along the boy’s lower back as he worked him, stretching him and teasing his prostate, making sure to get Peter as worked up and aroused as he was. Which was easy, considering his youth and the fact that everything was so new for him.

“Work yourself against the pillow, sweetheart,” he said, reaching around and guiding Peter’s cock into the silken fabric. He crooned encouragement as the boy did as he was told; his hips moving to thrust himself slowly against it, his front end coming down a little, raising his ass to Tony, entreatingly. “There it is,” Stark murmured, approving of the motion – and anything that gave the boy pleasure while his own hands were busy. “You’re so beautiful, Peter.”

He slid another finger into that tight ass, stretching Peter, getting him ready with eager motions while his cock throbbed against the boy’s thigh, drooling precum on him with every motion the boy made.

“ _Please_ , Tony…”

Peter was pressing against the fingers invading him, and Stark removed them, squaring the boy’s hips and guiding his fat cock head to his opening with one hand, while the other gentled Peter, caressing his back.

“Ready, baby?” he didn’t really wait for an answer, moving his hips, nudging that still tight hole and forcing the boy’s body to yield to him. “So tight, Peter…” he groaned as he slowly claimed him as his own, once more. “So _perfect_.”

Peter moaned into the bedding, where he’d buried his face, eyes closed as he concentrated on how good it felt. How amazing _everything_ felt. Tony’s hands on him, touching him, giving him something to focus on while his body was so perfectly filled by him, while Peter’s own cock was engulfed in the fabric of the pillow, precum soaking it, creating even more friction and exciting him further.

The moan turned into a whimper as Tony hilted inside him and made tiny thrusts with his hips making sure Peter _knew_ he was filled. Was _his_.

“So fucking beautiful,” Tony told him, pulling himself out and then moving back in, his pace gentle now that he was where he needed to be, willing to make the pleasure last for them both. “You’re so beautiful, Peter.”

Peter’s hips were working hard, moving against Tony, trying to encourage him to speed his pace, and working the pillow. He was trembling, anxious for his release, eager to feel the billionaire fill him with his seed. He turned his head, his face red, listening to the praise and getting even more excited by it.

“Please… harder, Tony… _please_ …”

“You want me to fuck you harder?” Tony crooned, increasing his pace, reaching his hand around Peter to find his cock and stroke it, recognizing that the boy was a lot closer to climax than he was. Not surprisingly. “Cum for me, Peter… show me how much you need it.”

The touch was all it really took. The dirty talk and encouragement simply made it that much better.

Peter cried out in pleasure and release, his hips bucking forward, driving his cock in Tony’s grasp. He climaxed, spraying Tony’s hand and the pillowcase with ropes of cum, his hips not stopping until his balls were drained, and still Tony stroked him, praising him for being so good. So obedient. For doing what he’d been told.

Then, when Peter was reduced to just clutching the bedding with his head buried in it, Tony moved his hands back to the boy’s hips, holding him tightly and increasing his own pace, now, feeling himself building to his own orgasm, spurred on by Peter’s satiated noises.

“My beautiful boy,” Tony grunted. “Going to fill you up. I’m so hard, Peter. Just for you. You’re so perfect.”

Each praise punctuated with a thrust; each harder than the one before, and each driving him deep into the boy. Stark finally groaned, snapping his hips forward and stilling as his entire body tensed for just a moment, and then released, his cock exploding in climax.

Peter made a soft noise as he felt the billionaire release inside him, filling him with hot cum, and he moaned once more when Tony collapsed onto him, breathless as he clutched the boy, kissing his neck and his ear, holding him, heart pounding against Peter’s back.

“Oh, honey,” Tony whispered as he finally pulled away from Peter long enough to pull out, toss the pillow aside and then gather his young lover into his arms, feeling him tremble with their combined release. “Oh, baby… you’re so _amazing_. Such a perfect fit for me.”

Peter nodded his agreement, but didn’t say anything. He pressed himself against Tony’s body, closing his eyes and burying his face against his chest, waiting for his heart to stop slamming his ribcage and his body to calm down before he could even _try_ to say anything. How had he ever thought the first time was the way it was supposed to feel?

Stark kissed his ear, tenderly, watching him with just the faintest concern when he didn’t say anything, wondering if he’d been too rough in his eagerness and had hurt him, again.

“Are you okay, honey?” He ran his hand along his cheek. “ _Peter_?”

“Yeah.” He turned to look at him. “I just… it felt _good_. You know? Almost so good it hurts.”

Tony nodded his understanding, and tightened his hold on him.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” he murmured. “But you make me so crazy with want. You have no idea how beautiful you look under me. How much I love seeing you open, just for me. It’s like nothing I’ve ever had before. Like no one I’ve been with.”

“Really?”

The older man smiled.

“Yes.” He kissed the boy. “I’m sorry I woke you. I just couldn’t wait any longer.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Did it hurt?” Tony asked, running his hand along his body, cupping his ass for a moment. “Was I too rough?”

“No. I’m _tough_ , Tony.”

The billionaire chuckled.

“Do you feel up to going to the tower, today?”

“Yeah. Of course. How do _you_ feel? Stomach okay?”

“After the ride I just had? I’m _perfect_ , honey.” He squeezed him again, and sighed with pleasure at where he was, just then. “We’ll go after breakfast.”

“Okay."

And after they cleaned up a bit.


	25. 25

Despite it being Saturday the tower wasn’t completely abandoned. There were always projects being worked on, even if the executives were gone for the weekend, and always a full compliment of security personnel. None of which were a problem for Tony, of course. He took Peter right through the parking garage entrance, walking by security with a wave as they buzzed him and Peter into the main lobby, and then pointing out the different elevators that went to different zones to make things easier for the people that worked there.

“We need to run by my office, first,” the billionaire told the boy. “Then maybe we’ll jump up to the R&D floors and see who’s around. Or, I’ll show you my workroom, and if you want, we’ll goof around in there.”

“Goof around as in _build something_?” Peter asked as they waited for the elevator that was designed for the executive floors. “Or the _other one?_ ”

Stark smiled.

“I _had_ meant as in build something, but the _other_ is an option, too.” The elevator dinged and opened, and Tony pushed him in ahead of him, amused. “There’s nothing on my schedule for today or tomorrow, so we have all the time we need to look around. If you see something interesting, let me know, okay? We’ll stop and I’ll explain it to you.”

“Okay.”

The elevator stopped and Tony led the way out of the car.

“This is the executive level. My office has a corner, Pepper Potts has a corner and a few of the high up big-wigs are scattered around. There are two conference rooms and a boss’ only dining room. Special invitation only.”

“Fancy.”

Peter was awed by Tony’s office, which was large, and beautifully decorated with an amazing view from the large windows.

“Have a look around,” Tony told him, enjoying the boy’s reaction. “All the newest toys.”

“Did FRIDAY design it, too?”

“Of course.”

“Is she _here_ , too?”

“FRIDAY?”

_“Hey Peter.”_

“Wow.” He grinned. “Hey, FRIDAY.”

“I told you she’s everywhere I am, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” The boy walked over to Tony’s desk and ran his hand along the top of it, looking back at Tony. “Is this place private?” he asked, curiously.

“Absolutely. FRIDAY protects my privacy. And _yours_ , too, of course.”

He smiled and sat down in Tony’s chair, running his hands along the leather armrests, which were tailored to Stark’s forearms. Tony thought the large, imposing chair made him look even younger, but he was adorable. Especially when he grinned, delighted, and started pretending to push papers around – probably acting out every office movie he’d ever seen.

“I want to see those numbers, Franklin,” the boy said, picking up the phone’s handset and talking into it. “And I don’t want any excuses!” He slammed the phone down, and scowled, pretending to smoke a cigar, thinking, and then picked up the phone, again. “Get me _batman_! Use the red phone.” Then he looked over at Tony. “You! _Stark_! Why are you just _standing_ there? Shouldn’t you be getting me some coffee? Or coming over here and trying to butter me up for a raise, or something?”

Tony’s expression was amused as he walked over and sat on the edge of his desk, but his expression was nothing compared to Peter’s. His chocolate eyes were bright and playful, and his smile warmed them even more – and made Tony melt to see it.

“Well, _Mr. Parker_ ,” he purred, leaning over and brushing the boy’s cheek. “I _know_ you don’t drink coffee, so I guess I’ll just have to butter you up and try to get a _raise_ out of you.”

Peter laughed, outright, and twirled in the chair, turning to look at the view before bringing the chair to a stop back facing Tony.

“You wouldn’t have to try very hard; you know that.”

The billionaire smiled.

“I _count_ on it.”

“What do you do in here? Run the company?”

“No. I leave that to the others. They’re better at it than I am. I sign off on the decisions that the executives make, double check that they’re going the direction I want them to go and pretty much stay out of the way so they can do their jobs and let me do mine.”

“Being _Ironman_.”

“Pretty much.” He leaned over and kissed Peter, tenderly. “Want to go look at the suits?”

“Can we?”

“Of course.” He winked, giving the boy his best seductive look, without it actually _being_ a seductive look. “If you’re nice to me, I’ll let you try one on.”

Peter’s eyes lit up.

“Really?”

“Why not?”

“Wow.”

“You’d have to be _pretty_ nice, though…”

The boy stood up, his hands going to Tony’s knees and pushing them apart so he could stand even closer to him, and he rested his head against Tony’s shoulder, silently asking to be held. The older man put his arms around him without hesitation, and kissed his ear before tucking his head under his chin.

“You know I’d be nice to you for _nothing_ , right?” Peter pointed out, sincerely, even as his hand went down to Stark’s lap and rested on the soft swelling in his jeans. He didn’t grope him; he wasn’t even teasing him. He was just being delightfully intimate, because he knew that he _could_.

It made Tony smile, because he _did_ know. Peter hadn’t sought him out looking for a relationship that he could cash in on in any way, shape, or form. Which didn’t mean Tony wasn’t going to do anything and everything for him that he could, of course. It just meant that he was doing it because he wanted to – and because he loved the boy.

He felt his stomach lurch at the realization, and he pulled back, pushing Peter away to hold him at arm’s length for just a moment, staring at him. Those brown eyes looking back at him were cheerful, and loving, and warm, and Tony drew the boy back into his arms. It wasn’t _love_. He’d known him for less than a week, and love at first sight was about as real as the tooth fairy, Tony knew. It was probably just the infatuation that comes with the rare, and the delightful. An amazing new toy.

It sure didn’t feel like _that_ , though. The billionaire had never been in love, but this was what he thought it must be like. He brushed the thought away, saving that internal argument for a different day. He was in a good place, with a good person, and that was enough for now.

“I know, honey.”

“Can we go look at them?”

“Can I hold you a little longer, first?”

“Yeah.”

The boy rested his cheek against Tony’s chest and closed his eyes, his hand abandoning Stark’s lap in order to snake around his body and hold him, as well.

<><><<<<<><<> 

“How many do you have total?”

“Complete? Eight. Prototypes and partials? Another seventeen.”

“But you can only _wear_ one at a time.”

“Yeah, I know.” He smiled, fondly, at the line of displays, each holding a suit, or a piece of one. “But, like your webshooters, they’re always evolving. Eventually I’ll get it just right – and then I’ll start looking for way to improve it.”

Peter laughed.

“That’s me, too. Right now, the webbing I use will dissolve in a couple of hours, but I’d like to get it down to an hour, or so.”

“Not _less_?”

“I use it to hold down criminals,” the boy reminded him. “The police don’t always get there, right away.”

“That makes sense.” Tony shook his head. “We should have brought it with us; you could have used one of the labs to work on it.”

“We could do that?”

“They’re called R&D labs for a reason, right?”

“Yeah.”

He looked thrilled at the prospect, and Stark smiled, feeling excited, too. For an _entirely_ different reason. His eyes darkened with desire and he sat down in a chair, reaching for Peter.

“Come here, honey…”

The boy must have sensed the change in his demeanor, because he saw him shiver, excited, as he did as he was told, and Tony brought him between his knees, reaching for the button on his jeans.

“Tony…”

“Shhh, it’s okay, Peter. I’m going to suck on you. You’re good with that, right?”

“Yes. Are you going to bend me over the table, too?” he asked, as Tony reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock, beginning to stroke it, tenderly.

“Do you want me to?”

“If you want…” he sighed, resting his hand on Tony’s head, fingers sifting through his hair as he watched the older man expertly make him swell with a simple touch. “It sounds exciting, but I don’t think it’d be very _comfortable_.”

Tony chuckled, and dipped his head to lick a moist stripe along the shaft of Peter’s cock, ending at the head and flicking his tongue under it.

“I can wait until I get you home to bend you over, honey. But I need to taste you, now.”

Peter groaned.

“Maybe you’ll get that raise, after all, Stark.”

“It’s looking good,” Tony agreed.


	26. 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been put up sooner, but I had an eye doctor appointment and I couldn't see after he dilated my pupils. It's VERY hard to type when that happens lol

The Ironman suit was configured to fit Tony Stark like a glove. Like a _gauntlet_ , actually. Because of that, none of the eight fully completed and functional suits came close to fitting Peter Parker. The boy didn’t care, though. He grinned the entire time Tony encased his forearm and hand in steel and alloys, eyes widening in excitement at the hydraulic sounds that accompanied every movement that he made, and he couldn’t help but hold the hand up at his reflection in a mirror and spout off classic movie one-liners before making noises that were supposed to be repulser blasts.

Tony sat on the table in his workroom and smiled, indulgently, as the boy literally played with his multimillion-dollar projects. Yes, they were serious business, but police dogs came home and played with their handlers’ children, right? It was nice to see something that was designed with such potential for destruction and violence making someone so happy.

Especially when that someone was _Peter_.

When Peter had run out of lines, he finally pulled himself from the mirror and went over to where Tony was sitting, watching.

“I don’t know how you get anything done,” the boy told him, extending the arm so the billionaire could take the armor off. “If I looked this cool, I’d have a hard time keeping myself from stopping at every reflective window I flew by.”

“It takes a little willpower,” he admitted, deactivating the metal casing, and pulling it off Peter’s arm. “Are you ready to get something to eat? Or do you want to go check out the R&D labs?”

“The labs.”

They left Tony’s workroom, moving at Peter’s slightly measured gait, but the leg didn’t seem to be bothering him too much. Stark was watching for any tell-tale limping, like the doctor had suggested, but he seemed to be doing better.

“The workroom at the new compound is pretty interesting, too,” Tony told him.

“Why? What are you working on there that you aren’t here?”

“Nanotech.”

“Yeah? Like in _Stargate SG-1_? Or _Time Hunters_? Or _The Calling_?”

“Like in…” Tony shrugged, unable to think of a movie involving anything close to what he was working on – but then, he didn’t watch that many movies. Truthfully, he’d probably seen more the last week while hanging out with Peter than he had in years. “Like in the Nanotech is pretty impressive shows...”

Peter grinned.

“Cool. Are you going to put that in your next suit?”

“Depends on how it comes out. It’ll take some more research, and a lot more development.”

“You do all that by yourself?”

“Yeah. I work better alone. Less distractions.”

“Sure. I can understand that.”

They made it to the elevators and Tony hit the appropriate button, then put his hand on Peter’s shoulder, affectionately.

“When I take you out to have Robert look at your leg, I’ll show you. Some of it’s groundbreaking.”

“You’re _really_ going to take me there?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“Because _I’m_ not an Avenger.”

“Neither is Robert.”

“Yeah, but he works with them.”

“You might, some day. We’ll just hedge on that bet and show you what they can do. Don’t worry about it, alright? Not _everyone_ there is an Avenger.”

“Like who?”

“The lady in the cafeteria.”

Peter rolled his eyes at that, and Tony smiled.

“You’ll have a good time, I promise. Besides, Steve and Natasha will be there. They like you, already.” Before he could say anything else, the elevator stopped, depositing them on their floor and he used the hand on the boy's shoulder to steer him out of the car and down the corridor, stopping in surprise when he saw movement through a glass window of one of the first rooms they walked by. “Hey… come on, honey. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

They went to the door and Tony rapped on it, lightly, before walking in. Peter stared at the man who looked up.

“Wow.”

Tony frowned, looking down at him.

_“Wow?”_

The boy grinned, excitedly, and turned to Tony.

“Do you know who that is?”

“Do _you_?”

“Yeah. Duh.”

The man frowned, too, looking at Tony, and then at the boy, clearly confused.

“You _know_ me?”

“Well… no. I mean. _Yeah_. _No_ , though.”

“What?”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“He gets like that when he’s excited. Or confused.”

“You’re Bruce Banner,” Peter said.

“How do you know that?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah. _How_?” Tony echoed.

The boy blushed.

“I saw your TED talk. And I’ve read your papers. And saw the 60 Minutes episode – although I wasn’t supposed to be up that late.”

“You know my work?”

“A lot of it,” Peter told him. “I mean. Some. A bit. The older stuff. I haven’t been able to keep up recently. When did you come to New York? I heard you were working on research in India…”

“Where did you hear that?”

“A blog I read a few years ago.”

Peter was practically wriggling in excitement, which made Tony smile.

“Bruce? I want you to meet my friend Peter. Peter, as you obviously already know, this is Bruce Banner.”

“Yeah.”

Banner put his hand out.

“Nice to meet you, Peter. How are you?”

“Good. Thanks.”

“How do you know Tony?” He looked at Stark. “Oh. Let me guess; _love child_?”

“No. Why does everyone keep _saying_ that?”

Peter smiled.

“He helped me out.”

“If you’d have been at the barbeque the other night, you’d have heard the story. But no; you wanted to work on your little project here…”

“It’s not a little project, Tony. It’s _big_. Groundbreaking big.” He stopped, interrupting himself. “I thought you were _sick_. What are you doing here?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“I don’t reveal my sources. What happened?”

“Too much Coney Island with Peter.”

“You went to Coney Island?”

“Yeah.”

“Yesterday?”

“Yes. Keep up.”

The doctor scowled.

“I’ve been trying to get you to go there for years. What the hell, Tony?”

Stark shrugged, smirking.

“Kid made me a pretty good offer. I was going to show Peter some of the empty labs before we go to lunch. Why don’t you show him yours, and I will buy you lunch in return?”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. If you’re interested.”

“And then I get to hear the story how you met?”

“Sure. If Peter doesn’t mind telling it, again – or listening to me tell it. _My_ version has a lot more _me_ in it. His is probably more _factual_.”

Banner raised an eyebrow at him, and shook his head, then turned his attention to the boy, who was watching him, hopefully. He smiled, and nodded.

“Come on, Peter. Let me show you around, and tell you what I’m working on. It’s far more interesting than welding together a talking hunk of metal, believe me.” He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, and used that to turn the boy around, toward the table and the displays that he’d been working at before the knock on the door. “And you can tell me what you thought of my gamma project. Did you hear about _that_ one?”

“Yeah.”

Peter started explaining the experiment as they walked away, and Tony rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“That boy is such a nerd.”

><<<><>><><>>>> 

“So, what are you going to do with him?”

Tony looked over at Peter, who was playing the pinball machine in the game room of the pizza place they’d gone to for lunch. Then he looked back at Bruce and took another pull from his beer bottle.

“The game plan is to get him healthy. Then figure that out. Robert looked at his leg and said he’s almost there. He’s going to check him out in a week or so.”

“And then what?”

“Find him a safe place. A _home_.”

“Do you know how hard that is? No one wants to foster teenagers. They want babies, and little kids. Not angsty teens who are just going to be trouble.”

“Peter’s not a lot of trouble.”

“He’s a teenaged boy, Tony. Remember what you were like as a teen? I remember what I was like. They’re tough. And foster homes that handle them are tough, too. He’s going to get chewed up and spit out.”

“I’m not going to let him go to just any home, Bruce,” Tony assured him. “I’m going to check the place out, first. Let Peter check it out. Talk to the people there. Make sure it’s a good fit for him. He can’t be on the street. He’s too young to take care of himself.”

“Of course he is. What if you can’t find a place?”

“I will.” He looked over at the boy again. “He deserves a good place. He’s had it pretty rough – and none of it’s his fault. He’s so alone…”

“Yeah. I can see that.”

Bruce was good at recognizing loneliness in others. Because of the other guy, he tended to avoid people as much as possible.

“You notice Peter didn’t ask you for a selfie? Even though he’s obviously a _huge_ fan – although I have no idea why…?”

“Come to think of it, yeah. I _didn’t_ notice it, but when someone does actually recognize me, they usually want a photo.”

“I had him in a room with Captain America, Black Widow and War Machine the other night. He didn’t ask any of them for a selfie, either.”

“Did you ask him why?”

“Romanoff did. He said that he didn’t have anyone to show them to, and that everyone who’d be interested in what he was doing was already in the room with him.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. So now you see why he’s not going to just go _anywhere_. It’s going to be someplace great, and I’ll keep him until we find it.”

“If Child Services doesn’t find him, first.”

Stark scowled.

“They don’t know they’re supposed to be _looking_ for him, clearly,” he muttered. “His aunt and uncle died three months ago, and no one seems to have realized that he was left alone to take care of himself. Not the school, or the state, or even any of the kids at his school.”

“Well, let me know if I can help, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“What are you going to do, now?”

Tony stood up.

“I’m going to go beat him at pinball. Coming?”

“What?” Bruce looked over his shoulder, and watched as Tony walked up behind the boy, tapping his shoulder and giving him a cocky look as he clearly challenged him to a game. “Well, _yeah_.”

Pinball was a _science_ , after all. And he was much better at science than Tony Stark. Everyone knew that.

He shoved the rest of his slice of pizza in his mouth and went to join them.


	27. 27

“Did you have a good time?”

Peter nodded, smiling broadly at the question.

“It was great, Tony. Did you?”

“Yes. Go sit down, will you? I don’t like how much you’re limping.”

“It’s just a little stiff,” Peter assured him, walking into the apartment and doing as he’d been told, easing down onto the sofa with a sigh. “That was so much fun.”

Tony smiled, because he had to agree with the boy.

“Yeah. It was, wasn’t it?”

If someone would have told him a couple of weeks ago that he could spend the day at the tower and not do any work, hang out with a fifteen year old at a pizza place and then go go-cart racing with the same teen and not be doing it because it was some Make-a-wish thing that Pepper had forced him into doing, he would have called that person crazy and suggested a drug test to whoever their supervisor was. But he _had_. And he’d had a good time doing it. _And_ he had a little checkered flag to prove that he was a better go-cart driver than Peter - and all the other little kids that he'd beat out three times in a row.

True, Bruce had done the pizza place with them before telling them that he needed to go finish writing up the results of the project he’d been working on that afternoon, but even without Bruce there, he’d had fun.

Peter was good company. And good _for_ him, Tony thought, smiling at the realization. Home before midnight and stone cold sober? _Really_? If this kept up, he might even start sleeping regular hours, or something. Then the Earth would probably stop spinning and hell would well and truly freeze over.

“What are you thinking about?” Peter asked, curiously, when Tony smiled at him, but didn’t seem to really be _looking_ at him.

The billionaire walked around to the back of the sofa and leaned over, running his hands along Peter’s shoulders and then chest, still feeling those prominent ribs, even through the boy’s shirt. He nuzzled his ear.

“I was thinking that you’re good company, honey. And that I should probably feed you some dinner.”

“We just had pizza a few hours ago,” Peter reminded him, reaching up to touch his cheek, enjoying the sensation of being held.

“It’s been five hours, and Robert told me that you should be eating as much as we can get into you.” He slid his hand under Peter’s shirt. “You’re still too thin. We need to fix that.”

Peter just shrugged, well aware that he wasn’t going to gain 20 pounds in a couple of weeks, no matter how much Tony fed him. He’d never been all that big to begin with. But he also knew Tony wouldn’t let him argue about eating. It was as if he considered it personal that Peter wasn’t packing on the pounds. And maybe he _did_ , since he was the one doing the cooking.

“What are we having?”

“I’ll put together a casserole. You get into something more comfortable and start thinking about you want to do tonight.”

“Okay.”

Before he could get up, though, Tony tilted his chin and kissed him, softly, his eyes dark with some unnamed emotion that made Peter shiver in response.

“ _Very_ good company,” Stark murmured against his lips.

The boy smiled.

“You are, too.”

He watched as Tony headed for the kitchen and then got up and went into the guest room and changed into sweats and a t-shirt. He was returning to the living room just as Tony was closing the oven.

“An hour or so for dinner,” the billionaire said, crossing the room and pulling Peter into his arms. “ _Whatever_ shall we do while we wait?”

Peter rested his cheek against Tony’s chest.

“You could teach me how Nanotechnology works.”

Tony chuckled.

“Before dinner?”

The boy shrugged.

“No. But enough to give me an idea of the tech that you’re using. It’s not _proprietary_ , is it?”

“No. And even if was, I’d still tell you, if you really want to know.”

“It sounds interesting,” Peter told him, sliding his hands along the older man’s sides and running them under the back of his jeans. “We could do something _else_ , if you’d rather?”

Tony snorted.

He loved the idea of taking Peter to the sofa and undressing the two of them and spending the evening making the boy writhe with pleasure until he was begging to be fucked in every way possible. Perversely, he was also enamored of the thought of showing someone who was really interested in the tech just how it _worked_ , and how it might be applied to his suits. Peter was intelligent and interested, and that appealed to the engineer in him, and the love that he had of the technology.

Did he love science more than _sex_? He hesitated at that particular thought, but then decided that no, probably not, but since it was _Peter_ who wanted to know; who was looking at him so hopefully, he was willing to curb his desire for the boy – _temporarily_ – in order to show the boy what he wanted to know. To teach him something new. Something that they were both interested in. So maybe he loved - there was that word, again - _Peter_ more than he loved sex.

He hugged him, close, for just a moment, and then let him go.

“FRIDAY. Bring up the specs on the Nanotech experiment from the last time we were at the compound. Trials seven and eight.” He smiled at the boy and then led him over to the island, where two displays immediately brought up a series of diagrams and videos, dated from a few weeks before. “You’re going to _love_ this.”

><><><<<<<>>>><><<< 

It wasn’t something that could be explained in the hour before it was time to eat. It certainly wasn’t going to be _understood_ that quickly, even though Peter was intelligent enough to catch on to what Tony was trying to do with the technology almost immediately. Explaining how it _worked_ took much longer.

They discussed it while Tony pulled ingredients out to make a salad to go with their casserole, and then while they ate, with the billionaire describing the history of the tech and where he saw it going as far as using it in his suit and maybe for other Avenger related items – like the Quinjet. While Peter helped him with the dishes, he explained what other companies – almost all of them owned, or partially owned by Stark Industries – were doing with similar technologies but different applications; including medical and research.

By the time Tony pressed him down onto the sofa and handed him the remote, telling him he’d be right back, Peter knew as much about Nanotechnology as he could learn in one evening. Tony was a good teacher, he thought, as he turned on the TV and pulled the comforter that was pretty much always on the couch for him to use over his lap. He didn’t dumb things down, but he made sure that he didn’t move on to the next concept before Peter had understood the previous one.

That was pretty cool. And it excited him that Tony was willing to treat him like he was almost an equal – at least in the science side of things. Peter was well aware that he was way behind when it came to life experience and intelligence. Tony was probably as brilliant as they came, and the more time Peter spent with him, the more he recognized that. But he shared his knowledge – of all things – freely with him, and Peter loved him for it, and wished that he knew how to thank him for that.

Saying _thank you_ all the time just didn’t seem to be enough, really.

“What are we going to watch?”

He was pulled from his thoughts by Stark’s return, and he shrugged, smiling as Tony joined him on the sofa, getting under the blanket with him and putting an arm around him, pulling his head down to his chest.

“Do you have a preference?” he asked, shivering when Tony’s hand slid along his side.

“Whatever you want to watch, honey.”

He started a sci-fi movie, and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. Tony put his feet up and Peter sprawled along the length of the couch, resting against him. The movie was one they'd both seen before, and interesting, but there was a lot of petting and caressing going on during it, and both of them were fairly aroused by the time the final credits rolled.

Stark pulled his hand out of Peter’s sweats and kissed him, hungrily.

“You have a _choice_ …”

“Yeah? What?” the boy asked, breathlessly.

“I can take you to the batting cages, tomorrow, or we can go golfing.”

Peter frowned; that wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting. Especially since Tony’s cock was throbbing and eager under his hand, even though they were both still dressed.

“What?”

Tony smiled, amused and pleased with himself for surprising the boy.

“I was told to make sure you get some fresh air. Which means actual exercise – _outside_. So tomorrow, we’re going to golf, or we’re going to go to the batting cages. Which would you prefer?”

“I’ve never done either,” Peter admitted, sitting up and slipping his leg over Tony’s thigh, straddling him, carefully, to avoid jarring his injured thigh. “What do you want to do?”

“I want _you_ to decide,” Tony told him, sliding his hands under Peter’s sweats, cupping his ass in his palms and pulling him against his body, feeling his arousal and reacting to it, predictably.

“Batting cages.”

“Good.” The billionaire kissed him, and then ran his tongue along the boy’s jaw, tracing his way to his ear. “It’s sexy that you’re so smart,” he murmured. “You _know_ that, right?”

Peter lifted his chin, giving Tony free access to his neck, too.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm…”

“You have a choice…” the boy said, suddenly.

“What’s that?” Stark asked, curiously, kneading Peter’s ass, tenderly.

“Fuck me out here, or take me to your bed and do it _there_.”

Tony chuckled, and turned, easily picking Peter up and moving him onto his back along the sofa and then sliding his sweats down and tossing them to the side. He dipped his head and drew his tongue along the shaft of the boy’s throbbing cock, eliciting a pleasured groan.

“We’ll start _here_ and work our way into my bed. How does that sound?”

“Perfect.”


	28. 28

“So what do I do?”

_“Seriously?”_

Peter frowned, feeling foolish. And a little defensive.

“I told you I’ve never done this before. I mean, maybe when I was really _little_ , but not that I remember…”

Tony smiled, relieved that it didn’t appear that Peter’s feelings were hurt by his surprise. He’d just _assumed_ the boy knew how to play baseball, and he knew that he _shouldn’t_ have, He resisted the urge to kiss him by way of apology and took the baseball bat from him, and then the helmet. Then he waved him out of the cage itself, to stand behind the chain link fencing.

“Watch me, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Peter watched as the billionaire took a couple of practice swings with the bat and then inserted a token and hit the start button, turned slightly toward the center of the circular structure, where a few other people were out in the morning sunshine, also trying their hands at baseball in a cage. A moment later, there was a wuffing sound and a ball came flying at Tony, who swung at it and hit it somewhat off to the side.

Less than ten seconds later, another appeared, and Tony swung and missed it. Fifteen times the balls came, and Tony hit eleven of them with varying degrees of distance and direction, but Peter was impressed. And excited to give it a try, now.

“Got it?” Tony asked, putting his hand on the helmet, which was now on _Peter's_ head, making sure it was on tight enough to not come off.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He handed Peter a token and went to take the spot the boy had vacated, clapping his hands, encouragingly. “Hit ‘em out of the park, Peter.”

The boy grinned, looking back at him and then putting in the token and swinging the bat, experimentally. The ball came while he was still making the test swings, but he was quick, and the bat came up to hit it off the end, making it actually come up behind him and hit the fencing between him and Tony.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, looking back at Tony.

“Watch the balls,” Stark told him, waving his hand toward the machine that was sending the balls at him.

The boy turned and ducked as the next ball hit his helmet, knocking it off.

“I’m okay,” Peter told Tony, seeing the concern in his expression. “It hit my _helmet_ , not-“

The next one came at him without any more warning than the others, and he brought the bat up, again, to keep it from hitting him. The bat caught the ball – only because Peter was insanely fast – and this time it fouled off and hit the boy in the mouth, knocking him backward.

“Peter!”

“I’m alright.”

He was getting the hang of the timing, now, and despite the blood he could taste in his mouth, he was turned the right direction this time to see the next ball come at him. He swung and hit it, giving himself a moment of respite to bring his shoulder up to his bleeding lip before the next ball came and he hit that one, too, sending it right back at the machine. He didn’t have time in between the balls being sent at him to get his helmet back on, and the thing was right in the path of the trajectory of the machine, so he didn’t try. He just kept hitting them until they stopped coming.

Fifteen total balls, just like Tony.

“Are you okay?” The billionaire asked, frowning at the blood, but seeing nothing but a smile – a _bloody_ one, at that – on Peter’s face.

“Yeah. It’s _easy_ , really, once you get the hang of it.”

“Try getting the hang of it a little faster, next time, okay?” he asked, touching the swollen lip, tenderly, and pulling it back to make sure the boy’s teeth were all still there. “Does it hurt, much?”

Peter smiled. Tony noticed it was a little lopsided, but his beautiful eyes were excited and happy.

“Just a little. Can I go again?”

“You want to?”

“Yes. _Please_?”

He shrugged and handed him the helmet.

“Have fun.”

Who was he to say no? At least the leg wasn’t hurting him too much.

><><><><><<<<>>> 

They had lunch at a burger place just north of the park. Tony watched Peter, carefully, as he ate, but even though he was having a little trouble opening his mouth around the swollen and cut lip, there was nothing wrong with his appetite.

“You look like you got in a fight,” Stark told him with a slight smile.

“Yeah?" Peter looked impressed. "I’ve never been in a fight before.”

“Never?”

“No. You?”

“A time or two, yes.”

They were icing it, but with Peter’s pale skin, there was no way to avoid the bruising that had come with the blow.

“It doesn’t _hurt_ ,” Peter told him, trying to take the worry out of Tony’s expression. “Really.”

“Good. How’s the leg?”

“It’s a little stiff, from all the swinging I was doing. Doesn’t hurt too much, though More like an ache that isn’t quite ready to go away, yet.”

“Well, we’ll get you home and get you off of it for a while, okay?”

“All right.”

They finished eating – Peter polished off Tony’s fries and then went back for an order of onion rings, too – and then got into Tony’s car.

“Next time we’ll try _golfing_ ,” the billionaire told him. “It’s probably safer.”

“They don’t throw the balls at you, right?”

“Right. We’ll get you a set of clubs. They work better when they’re tailored to your swing.”

“You golf?”

“ _All_ rich people golf, Peter,” he said, smiling. “I thought you watched movies.”

“I think that’s all doctors golf,” the boy told him.

“Same thing.”

“Does Bruce golf?”

“No.”

“He’s a _doctor_.”

“Yeah. But golf is _frustrating_. We don’t let him do things that are frustrating. Or that can get him _angry_. Or… well, we just keep him happy and in his lab.”

“What about Robert?”

“I don’t know. _Probably_. You can ask him, yourself when you see him, next.”

“Okay.”

When they arrived at the apartment, Tony took the icepack and sent Peter to sit down on the sofa and get off his leg. Then he set the icepack in the sink and joined him, looking the lip over, again.

“Poor guy,” he murmured. “I should kiss it, and make it better.”

Peter smiled at that, and leaned in for the kiss, which was cautious but sweet.

“It’s fine. Really.”

“Good.” He leaned back, pulling Peter with him so the boy was resting his cheek against his chest.

“I have to work tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Monday?”

“Yes.”

“I need to go to school, Tony.”

“What?”

“I’ve missed a few days, now,” Peter reminded him, without raising his head. “I can’t miss too many; I’ll get behind.”

Stark frowned.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, honey? Your leg…”

“I sit most of the day at a desk. It won’t hurt me.”

“I don’t know, Peter…”

“If I keep missing days, they’ll hold me back. I can’t afford for that to happen, Tony. I need to graduate without any delays.”

“Yeah. I know.” He held him, both of them quiet for a while, just enjoying the contact with the other. He didn’t know why he didn’t like the idea of Peter going back to school. It wasn’t like he’d been _shot_ at school, after all, and now the guy had decent clothes to wear and wouldn’t stick out. He’d been going for a couple of months, now, after all. No harm had come of it. Maybe it was just the thought of him being somewhere that no one seemed to care about him. Tony wanted him to understand how great he was. How special he was. And he wasn't getting that attention at school. He shrugged, though, and turned his head, kissing his ear. “We’ll see how you feel in the morning, all right? If you’re up for it, still, Happy and I will drop you off on the way to the tower – _and_ we’ll come get you. Or he will, if I’m tied up.”

“I could take the bus.”

“It’s better my way. I don’t want you standing that much.”

“Okay.”

Stark smiled and kissed his cheek again.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?”

“Even with a busted lip?”

“ _Especially_ with a busted lip. It’s a battle scar, right? That’s sexy.”

“I got hit with a _baseball_ ,” Peter said, a smile in his voice, happiness welling within him at the sincerity of the compliment. “That’s hardly a battle.”

“It’s sexy. _You’re_ sexy. And amazing.”

The boy closed his eyes, wrapped in warmth inside and out.

“I love you, Tony.”

The billionaire pulled his head back, just enough to look down at the boy in his arms, even though he couldn’t see his face just then, buried as it was against his chest, next to the arc reactor. He slid his fingers through the slight curls, tenderly, and felt his lips pull into a slight smile.

Son of a bitch. Is _that_ what it felt like? It had to be.

“I love you, too, Peter.”


	29. 29

“Are you sure you feel up to this?”

Peter smiled, and nodded.

“Yes.”

“Your leg isn’t hurting?”

“No.”

Tony knew it wasn’t; he’d checked it only an hour ago, making sure the wound was still healing – and it _was_. Then he’d kissed Peter and told him he’d blow on it to make it better, and had spend a while with the boy’s cock, just to make sure he wasn’t feeling any pain, at all. Once he’d drained him dry, he’d licked him clean and Peter had reminded him that he needed to be to school by eight.

Which meant breakfast, first, because Tony wasn’t going to trust a school cafeteria breakfast to get his young lover through to lunch. Completely ignoring that it was what Peter had been living on, basically, for the last three months. He’d gotten him out of bed and told him to get dressed, and had made both of them a hearty breakfast, calling Happy to come get them with plenty of time to spare.

“How’s the lip?”

“It looks worse than it is.”

It _wasn’t_ too bad, either. Swollen and bruised, with a cut that made it a little painful for Peter to smile – and it had kept Tony from letting Peter hurt himself trying to have his way with the billionaire, orally, the evening before.

“Good.”

FRIDAY announced the car’s arrival and the two headed for the elevator.

“Who hit you?” Happy asked, frowning, when he saw Peter’s mouth.

The boy smiled.

“A _baseball_.”

The driver looked at Stark.

“You played baseball?”

“We hit the batting cages, yesterday. He got hit with one of the balls.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” Peter told him, getting into the car. “I’m pretty tough.”

Happy looked at Stark, and then shrugged. The kid was up and about not too long after getting shot.

“Yeah, you are.”

He closed the door behind Tony, and Stark smiled at Peter after making sure the divider was up between the front and the back seats.

“Is it wrong that I find it incredibly hot that I’m taking you to _school_?”

The boy smiled.

“ _Probably_. But I love it.”

“You have your phone?”

“Yes, in my backpack.”

Not that he needed it for anything. The only person he could call was already planning on picking him up when school was out.

“Good. If you need anything, you can call me. I’m in meetings today, but they aren’t important. Got it?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Got your lunch?”

He smiled and patted the new backpack.

“I’m set, Tony. Don’t be so nervous. I’m okay.”

“I know you are.” He kissed him, softly. “I put some extra granola bars in your backpack, though. Eat in between classes. And there’s some money in your wallet if you need anything that we couldn’t think of.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But that’s never stopped me from doing anything, before.”

He asked Peter about his classes, making sure he knew which ones he had that day and how he felt about the teachers, and before they knew it, Happy was bringing the car to a stop outside the school.

“We’ll meet you right here,” Tony said, as Peter opened his door. “Unless something comes up, and then I’ll text you.”

“Okay.” The boy leaned into the car once he’d gotten out. “Have a good day, Tony.”

“You, too, Peter.”

He shut the door and headed into the school with all the others, and Tony watched until he couldn’t see him again, and then lowered the partition and told Happy to go ahead and get them to the tower.

><><><><<<<>><<> 

“Tony?”

He turned, drawn from his thoughts, scowling because he was trying to pay attention to what was going on and his mind kept turning to Peter; wondering what he was doing. Worrying if his leg was bothering him, or if he was trying to do too much with it.

“I’m sorry, yes?”

Pepper frowned.

“What’s going on with you, today?”

“Nothing. What did I miss?”

“That depends on when you stopped listening.”

“We’re still discussing the merging with the Japanese company?”

“Osawa, yes. If you want access to their Nanotech, then yes, a merger would be the way to go – or outright buy them. I think the merger would be better.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“I’ll start the process.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded, and then hesitated.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“What?”

“Whatever it is that’s put that dreamy smile on your face and has you so distracted.”

“I was thinking I’d sign on as a foster parent.”

Pepper frowned.

“We _discussed_ that.”

“I know. Although, technically, _you_ discussed it and told me what a bad idea it was.”

“Which it _still_ is.”

“I don’t think so.” He sat up a little more, looking at his watch. “Get the paperwork for me, will you? I know there’s a couple of forms, and they’ll want to do a background check. Give them access to what they need to know – nothing more. If they need to inspect my apartment and the house on the coast, give them video – unless it needs to be done in person, then find me a time to do it during the morning or early afternoon.”

“What are you going to do with a foster kid, Tony?”

“Nurture him. Raise him up. Be there for him like no one else has.”

“What?”

He looked over at her.

_“What?”_

Pepper rolled her eyes and stood up.

“Fine. But you’re not dumping the kid on my doorstep when you lose interest in a week or two.”

“Right. Thanks.” He looked at his watch again. “Are we done?”

“Why? Do you have a hot date?”

“As a matter of fact, I need to go pick someone up. I’m done for the day. If anything comes up, it can wait for tomorrow.”

“Right.”

She left and Tony turned his chair around to look out the window at the view of the city below him, then he hit a button.

“Happy? Are you getting close?”

_“Pulling in now.”_

“I’ll be right down.”

><><><<<<<<>><<<<<> 

Peter had to admit that it was a bit of a thrill to have the long, black car waiting for him when he walked out of the school. Some of the students around him were talking about it as they noticed it, and he flushed a little in excitement as he walked over. Then he blushed, again, when Happy got out of the car and went around to open his door, winking at him, amused, but acting like Peter was some kind of bigshot.

“ _Mr. Parker_. How was your day, sir?”

Peter grinned.

“It was good, Happy. Thank you.”

He ducked into the car, and set his backpack on the floor before sitting down, smiling at Tony, who was waiting for him, dressed in the same perfect suit that he’d been wearing that morning, and looking just as amazing and confident.

“How was your day?” The billionaire asked as the door was closed behind Peter.

“It was good. _Busy_. I’m pretty behind.”

“We’ll fix it,” Tony assured him, sliding his arm around Peter and hugging him, close. “I _missed_ you.”

The boy felt an entirely different feeling well up inside him, then. It had been so _long_ since there had been anyone waiting for him when he got out of school. No effusive greeting, much less someone telling him so frankly just how happy they were to see him. With a barely choked down sob, he buried his face into Tony’s shoulder and neck and held him, tightly, unable to explain why he was suddenly so weepy because there was a huge lump in his throat.

Luckily, he seemed to understand. His grip tightened, and he turned his head, kissing Peter’s ear.

“It’s okay, honey. Shh… You’re okay, right? Those are _happy_ tears?”

Better to make certain, after all.

Peter nodded, sniffing into the billionaire’s expensive shirt.

“Good. Let’s get you home and you can tell me all about your day.”

>><<<<<>> 

“Thanks, Happy,” Peter said as he got out of the car. He had managed to regain his composure on the drive back to the apartment, and was able to make sure that the driver knew that Peter knew what he’d done and appreciated it. “That was really cool.”

The driver smiled.

“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.”

Tony nodded and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, steering him to the elevator, carrying his backpack.

“What do you have in here?” he asked. “Rocks?”

“All my books,” Peter told him. “I have a lot of homework.”

“Anyone give you any problems about being out of school?”

“No.” The elevator let them off on their floor. “I told them we had an emergency out of town. They were more interested in my busted lip,” he added, rolling his eyes. “My gym teacher said it was a beauty.”

“What did you tell them?”

“The _truth_ ,” he admitted. “I wanted to say I got in a fight, but I didn’t think I’d be able to pull off the story, so they got the batting cage incident story, instead.”

“How do you feel?” Tony asked. Pulling the boy down onto the sofa to sit beside him, pulling him into his arms once more. Sex aside, he was finding that he could simply hold Peter for hours, if they could both sit still that long. “Any pain?”

“My leg’s a little sore. The rest of me is fine.”

“Did you have lunch?”

Peter nodded.

“Yes. It was good, too. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. What kind of homework do you have?”

“Everything. Math, physics, English and Spanish. I’m surprised my gym teacher didn’t assign me pushups to do at home, or something.”

Tony chuckled, and pulled away from him, only to kiss him, softly and hungrily.

“You’re not going to get it all done in a day, but I’ll help you. You _know_ that, right?”

“I was hoping you would,” Peter told him. He smiled, his eyes lighting up with happiness and something else that Tony wasn’t quite sure of. “It… I was… um… it seems like forever since someone was glad to see me after school. Thank you for coming to get me.”

The billionaire’s smile was sad, but his hug was loving.

“I _was_ glad to see you. Don’t ever forget that, okay?”

“Okay.”

He held him for a long time, just reassuring the boy that he wasn’t alone, and crooning tender words in his ear; he was beautiful. He was amazing. So sexy that he could barely breathe sometimes when he looked at him. He loved him.

Peter was smiling when Tony finally pulled away.

“I’m going to change. Then we’ll celebrate all your homework by spending time before dinner in my bed, okay?”

He felt a tightening in his loins at the hungry look in Tony’s eyes, and nodded.

“Yeah.”


	30. 30

“Well _that’s_ a step up from coming home and doing homework…”

Tony chuckled, looking down at Peter from his position between the boy’s legs, still deep inside him, but deflating, now that he’d emptied himself into him.

“So I rate somewhere above _homework_? That’s a start.”

He leaned over and kissed the boy, tenderly, hitching his hips a few times before pulling out and gathering Peter into his arms to catch his breath and enjoy the euphoria that came with his climax.

The boy sighed, too; a sound of utter contentment and a puff of warm, moist air on the billionaire’s neck.

“Well above homework.”

“We’ll get cleaned up and you can work on some of it while I make dinner.”

“What are we having?”

“Fettuccini alfredo with grilled chicken. If you want, I’ll make extra so you can take it for lunch, tomorrow.”

The boy brushed his lips against Tony’s neck, eliciting a sound of approval.

“You’re too good to me.”

“Yeah, well…” he kissed him, deeply, and ground himself against his lithe form. “You’re worth being good to, right?”

Peter smiled, knowing that Tony was doing that to bolster his self-esteem. And it was _working_. He loved hearing the older man say things like that. Loved being told he was beautiful, and wallowed in the loving looks he would catch Tony tossing his way – when he was on top of him and working him, masterfully, or even when they were simply hitting baseballs at the batting cages.

It was exhilarating. And addicting.

As much as he said it, Peter was starting to believe it.

>><<<><><< 

Tony had a good evening. Starting with the pure happiness – to the point of tears – that had been Peter’s reaction at being picked up from school and made much of. Then a slow, enthusiastic, time in bed bringing both of them to completion before starting dinner. While Tony made their meal, he thoroughly enjoyed himself, watching Peter work on his homework at the kitchen island and explaining his assignments to the older man when he was asked about them.

They didn’t get even close to all of it done; there was a _lot_ of it. But Tony was impressed by the quality of the work that Peter had for homework, confirming what he already knew. The boy wasn’t dumb, by any means. Behind those beautiful eyes and that open face of his was the mind of a scientist, and the billionaire was looking forward to watching it develop and seeing where Peter went with it.

And that wasn’t even including the whole Spiderman thing.

When dinner was ready, they ate at the table like a real family would – something that _Tony_ hadn’t done in a long time, too, so it was almost a novelty for both of them. After eating Peter wanted to work on his homework some more, but Tony reminded him that he wasn’t going to complete it all in one short evening and convinced the boy to spend time with him on the sofa, cuddling, while they watched a movie, instead.

“I could get used to this very easily,” Tony told the boy, brushing his hand against Peter’s side while they watched the show, both of them so relaxed they were basically melted against the other.

“What do you normally do at night?” he asked, curiously.

“Depends on the night and how I feel. Mostly, like I told you before, I stay up all night and work. Either on Stark Industry things, or developing new tech to integrate into my suit – or _doing_ the integrating. Sometimes I go to parties. Sometimes it’s a _lot_ of parties.”

“Like in the movies?” Peter asked, turning his head and resting his chin on the billionaire’s collarbone and admiring his eyes when he asked. “Lots of tuxedos and fancy dresses and alcohol?”

“All of the above,” Stark confirmed.

“Pretty women throwing themselves at you?”

“Sometimes. Pretty _men_ , too.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course, honey. If they’re not fans of my money, they’re fans of Ironman, and they want to jump in the sack with me. To make me their conquest. Or to have me make them _mine_.”

Peter thought he sounded jaded about the whole business, and he supposed that like all things like that, too much of a good thing was still too much.

“You’d really rather be watching a movie than at a party talking to interesting people, eating expensive food and drinking Champaign?”

Tony smiled down at him, kissing the tip of his nose since that was what he could reach without moving.

“Yes. To _all_ of that. I’d rather be watching a movie with you than doing any of those things. Plus, when the movie is over, instead of staying up all night working, or staring out the window, I’m going to have you in my arms, and I’ll _sleep_. That’s infinitely better than _any_ of those other things. _You’re_ better than all of that.”

The boy blushed, prettily, and Tony ran his hand along his hip, sliding his hand under the sweats that he’d changed into so that he could palm his ass. He shifted a little so he could kiss him a bit more seriously, and as he always did, Peter responded with a shiver of pleasure.

He was extremely responsive.

“Get naked for me, Peter…” Stark whispered, and let the boy go so that he could comply.

Peter pulled his shirt off, first, and then got up – moving carefully to keep from jarring his leg – and took off his sweats before rejoining Tony on the sofa, now straddling him so he could rest his cheek against the older man’s chest but still bring his hand down between them to fish his half-aroused cock out of the pants he was wearing. Tony sighed, contentedly, as Peter began stroking him, just gently fondling and playing with him as the movie played in the background and the billionaire kneaded and played with his ass cheeks. He was already nicely stretched from earlier, so Tony knew that he wouldn’t need much preparation to make him fuckable, but he loved the foreplay and could spend hours doing what they were doing just then.

Peter wasn’t quite so patient. His own cock throbbing, now, and smearing precum against Tony’s stomach or slicking his own hand with it when his attentions to Tony's cock brought the two together, Peter’s breathing was quickening in growing excitement and eagerness, although Stark wasn’t in any hurry and gentled him with his touch and a few whispered words.

“Shh, honey…” he crooned in the boy’s ear, still not touching his cock; still just playing with his ass. “We have all night.”

Well, not _all_ night. It was a _school_ night, and he probably shouldn’t keep him up too late. _That_ thought was exciting, though, and Tony smiled, spreading Peter’s ass cheeks and then sliding a finger along it, testing him and then reaching for the lube without breaking the rhythm of Peter’s strokes.

“I want to be your conquest, Tony,” Peter murmured, feeling the billionaire’s fingers inside him, teasing him, playing with him and slicking him up – getting him ready.

“You’re my _everything_ ,” Tony told him, sincerely, his hands moving to Peter’s hips and lifting him, while the boy’s hand on Tony’s cock guided him to his puckered opening, nudging himself with the head.

Peter brought his arms around his neck, his lips seeking Tony’s, and Stark’s tongue invaded the boy’s mouth as his cock impaled Peter’s tight, perfect ass.

“Yes…”

The boy’s moan of desire was exciting, and Tony lifted him so he could pull him back down onto him. Then repeated the action again and again. Slowly, at first, and then with more force, driving his hips up to meet his prize as they both felt themselves winding up to the final climax. It didn’t happen immediately, though; after school sex was a great way to make sure there was prolonged pre-bedtime sex, and that was something that they were both going to keep in mind for next time.

Peter rode Tony, his cock slick and hard, rubbing against Tony’s stomach, now, with each motion, the boy’s eyes closed as he focused on the sensations that had hold of him and weren’t letting him go any time, soon.

“You’re so perfect, sweetheart,” Tony crooned, feeling Peter’s body tensing and knowing that even without being stroked he was near climax. Tony had already recognized that the boy loved being praised and was excited by it, and that was fine, since the billionaire loved to watch him blush at the words. It was even better when he was getting off on them, as well. “So tight… so amazing. Just for me.”

“Yes…” Peter whimpered, his hand moving to his cock, stroking himself, now, face red and anxious as Tony’s hands came to his cheeks to force him to look at him. His dark eyes meeting Peter’s chocolate lust-filled ones. “Please, Tony…”

“So brave. So strong,” Tony responded, allowing his lust to show in his expression. Not holding anything back. “So perfect for me. Everything I need, right here on my lap. Riding on me so perfectly.”

The words were having their effect on _Tony_ , too, of course, and he felt his testicles tense, and his entire shaft swell as he was suddenly overcome with his orgasm, which shot through his entire being, culminating in an explosion of cum into Peter’s ass. Tony’s pulled him down tight onto his lap, thrusting hard to fill the boy as he unleashed inside him and was aware that Peter was climaxing, as well, cum shooting against his fist and Tony’s belly.

They held still for a long moment, shuddering as they rode the wave of pleasure, and then came down on the other side, holding tightly to each other.

“Wow…” Peter murmured into his chest, rolling his hips a little, feeling Tony still inside him. “You’re good at that.”

The billionaire chuckled, kissing him.

“You make it easy, honey. We should get cleaned up and get you to bed.”

“Yeah. It’s a school night.”

God, it was just as exciting coming from _his_ mouth, Tony decided, as he eased Peter off his lap. He didn’t move right away, though, instead cuddling with him and simply being with him and feeling his heart beating against his own chest.

“Leg’s okay?”

“Yeah, Tony,” Peter assured him, now sounding sleepy. “ _Everything’s_ okay.”


	31. 31

“I bet you’re glad you’re not riding the bus, _today_ …”

Peter smiled and nodded, shivering despite the fact that he was warm and dry inside the back of the car.

“Yeah.”

Outside it was raining. Not just a gentle fall sprinkle, either; it was coming down hard, and there was a definite chill in the air as they drove toward Peter’s school.

“We’ll be by to pick you up,” Tony reminded him, zipping up the boy's new jacket when they arrived, and then handing him his backpack. “Don’t stand out in the rain waiting. Got it?”

“Yeah.” He kissed him, quickly, and then opened the door. “Thanks for the ride, Happy,” he called to the driver, who waved a goodbye as he turned the car back into traffic.

><<<>>><< 

Peter had a pretty good morning. Despite the fact that he was behind in all his classes, he knew it was only temporary, and so did his teachers. They all knew he was bright and well able to keep up with their class, even if he’d been gone. He was daydreaming a little in third period, looking at the rain falling outside the window and thinking about what kind of experiment he would do for science when he was pulled from his thoughts by the English teacher calling his name.

“Peter? The principal needs to see you.”

The rest of the class made the expected ooohs and cat-calls as he gathered his backpack and jacket, smiling, unconcerned. Unlike some of them, he stayed out of trouble and under the radar, so had no reason to be worried about a summons to the principal – or anyone else, for that matter.

He did frown, however, when he was ushered into her office and found that she wasn’t alone. Another woman – a little older, and maybe a little sterner looking was there, as was Peter’s guidance counselor.

“Sit down, Peter,” the principal said, gesturing to the chair across from her desk. Peter set his backpack and jacket on the floor by the chair and settled into it. “This is Mrs. Miller.”

He nodded a greeting, uncertain why he was suddenly nervous.

“Hello, Peter,” the woman said. “You can call me Rachelle. I’m with Child Protection Services.”

“Oh.”

His counselor spoke.

“The bruise on your face was pretty serious, Peter,” the man told him. “So we wanted to make sure it was really from a baseball, and not something more nefarious. Something that might need to be looked into.”

“I got hit with a baseball at the batting cages,” he said, feeling a shiver go through him. “There’s probably video, or something.”

“Yes…” Miller frowned. “When we sent an officer to do a wellness check at your address on record, we found some… disturbing facts started coming to light.”

“Why didn’t you mention your aunt and uncle’s passing?” the counselor asked, curiously. “We could have _helped_.”

“Oh.” Peter’s mouth was dry, and he shivered, again. “Yeah. I… didn’t… I mean. I wasn’t sure what to say.”

“Where have you been living, Peter?” Miller asked, gently. “Who has been taking care of you?”

“No one. I mean. I have a place, _now_ , but I was alone for a while… I’m okay, though,” he added, quickly.

“We’re going to want to have you looked at,” she told him. “To make sure you’re healthy. And that you’re eating enough and being taken care of. And that no one is abusing you.”

Peter found himself on his feet, panic coursing through him. This was what he'd been worried about happening, yes, but even worse, he’d seen movies and knew that they were probably going to have him looked at by a doctor, or something. Not only would the doctor see the gunshot wound and probably recognize it for what it was and want to know about it – which meant talking about his _abilities_ – he had the bruises on his hips, still, from when Tony had grabbed him, and a doctor would think he was being hurt.

They'd draw their own conclusions and Tony might be in trouble. Peter needed Tony. 

And then they’d tell the CPS woman, who wouldn’t keep it a secret. Tony might be in trouble. Peter would, too, but he was much more worried about Tony. If he wasn’t _bruised_ , it’d be no big deal. It was a _good_ thing that Tony was watching him, and the CPS officials would probably agree. As it was, though, he couldn’t go with them. Couldn’t let them see his bruises.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Peter said, quickly.

“It’s nothing to be worried about,” she said, recognizing his panic, immediately. Of course, she dealt with scared children all the time as a matter of course for her work. “We’ll make sure you’re _safe_. There are places that can take you in. Make sure you’re eating right.” She hadn’t missed his too thin face and prominent cheekbones. “You’re too young to take care of yourself.”

“No. I mean, yeah, I know. But I’m. I _can_. I’m okay. I don’t want to go to a home.”

“It’s for the best, Peter,” the principal said, frowning. “You can still go to school and-“

“ _No_!” he was well into a panic attack, now, worried what would happen to Tony if someone saw his bruises and connected them with the billionaire. The batting cages had to have a camera, but that wouldn’t explain the other bruises and he couldn’t lie well enough to even try to come up with a story. “No,” he said, trying to fight down the panic, but failing. “Please…”

“Hey…” the counselor stood as well, a looming presence that was much too close to the boy in his current state of anxiety.

Overwhelmed by the panic of his own doing, Peter broke and ran from the office, rushing through the door of the school office before anyone had a chance to react. Long before any of them thought to call the school’s resource officer – a police officer assigned to the school during the hours when the students were there – the boy had run out of the building and vanished into the driving rain.

>>><<><<> 

The woman manning the giant reception desk in the lobby of Stark Industries frowned when she looked up from her monitor and saw the boy suddenly standing in front of her. Pale and shivering, drenched to the skin and only dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, he was a sorry sight; his large brown eyes scared and worried looking.

“Can I help you, sweetheart?” she asked him, kindly.

Peter shivered, trying to look a little less pathetic and well aware that he was dripping on the marble floor.

“I need to see Tony Stark, please.”

He’d bolted from the school without his backpack or his jacket. By the time he’d made it as far away as he felt safe and had found himself a protected spot on a rooftop to wait out the panic attack, Peter was wishing that he had them both. The rain had soaked him, quickly, and his jacket would have been useful, of course. Maybe not as useful as the cell phone in his backpack, though. Then he could have called Tony and told him what had happened, and asked what he should do.

Once he’d calmed down a little, he recognized that wishing wasn’t going to do him any good and had walked the goodly distance from where he was to the tower, taking most of the morning to do so and getting wetter and wetter, since the rain didn’t let up. By the time he reached the tower, he was freezing, despite the exercise, and his leg had stiffened up and was bothering him.

“Mr. Stark?” she repeated. She gave him a friendly smile. “I’m sorry. He’s very busy. We have special tours set up for the building,” she added, quickly, reaching for one of the flyers and handing it to him. “You just have your mom or dad sign you up and you can come. He might even make an appearance. He does that, sometimes.”

Not very often, but he looked so disappointed that she had to add it in.

“Could I leave a message?”

“Sure.”

She handed Peter a piece of paper and loaned him a pen and he wiped his damp hands off on his wet jeans and wrote a quick note, which he handed back to her.

“Please make sure he gets it.”

“I will, sweetheart.” She frowned; he looked so vulnerable. “Do you need help? I could call someone. Your _mom_?”

“No. I’m okay,” Peter assured her, backing up. “Thank you.”

She nodded and watched him leave the building, then looked at the note he’d left.

_Tony, I need to see you. Meet where you found me. Please. – Peter_

“Huh.”

She shook her head and put the note in the IN box, well aware that Tony Stark wasn’t going to be looking through the thing any time soon – if _ever_. That was what assistants were for, after all. They could decide if the note was something Mr. Stark would need to see.

><<<><><>>> 

“Do you see him?”

Happy shook his head, looking at the dwindling crowd of students leaving the school, all of them holding umbrellas or putting up the hoods on their jackets or sweatshirts.

“No. Want me to go inside and see if he’s waiting and just hasn’t seen us?”

“No. We’ll give him a minute – just in case he got held up by a teacher, or something.”

They sat and watched as the crowd thinned to nothing, and Tony tried calling – again. The calls went to voicemail – which was by default just a number and that the user was unavailable. Not surprisingly, Peter hadn’t set one up, yet. The text that he’d sent had also gone unanswered.

Finally Tony muttered something under his breath and reached for the door handle.

“I’ll go find him,” he said, unable to sit still any longer, and suddenly worried that something had happened to the boy. It wasn’t like Tony was listed as an emergency contact, after all. “Wait here.”

“Yeah.”

The billionaire took the umbrella Happy handed him and went into the school, following the well placed signs to the main office, since he didn’t see Peter in the halls.

“Can I help you?” a secretary asked, obviously distracted by a small group of people – and a police officer – who were talking behind the counter.

“I’m trying to find one of your students. He was supposed to meet me, and he didn’t,” Tony told her, politely. “Any chance of seeing if he was held up by one of his teachers?”

“Of course.” She smiled, prettily, at him. “His name?”

“Peter Parker.”

The woman frowned, and turned toward the others, all of whom had heard him. One of them stepped forward.

“You’re looking for Peter Parker?”

“I am.”

“And you are…?”

“Tony Stark.”

They might not have immediately recognized him, but they _all_ knew his name. Obviously.

“What’s your interest in Peter Parker, Mr. Stark?” the woman asked.

“I’m _looking_ for him. Who are you?”

“Rachelle Miller. CPS. _We’re_ looking for him, too.”


	32. 32

“So, let me get this _straight_ …” Tony said, pacing the room and stopping only long enough to level a look at everyone in the room – except _Happy_ , who had joined him instantly, when he’d called. “It took you three months to figure out that he was on his own, and the minute you _did_ , you thought the best thing to do was scare him and let him run away?”

Miller scowled.

“We didn’t _try_ to scare him, Mr. Stark – and we couldn’t catch him before he escaped.”

“He didn’t _escape_ ,” Stark snapped. “He’s not a prisoner. No wonder he was afraid, if that’s the attitude you presented to him.”

“What exactly is your interest in Peter?” she asked, frowning – well aware that it had been a poor choice of words.

“My driver and I found him in an alley a week ago – shot by someone who had robbed a convenience store.”

Happy nodded his agreement.

“We took him and got him a doctor.”

“And it didn’t occur to you that CPS should be _involved_?”

Tony wasn’t cowed by her. He’d faced down presidents and pompous assholes plenty of times. She wasn’t even close to that bad.

“It _did_ occur to me that you should be involved,” he corrected her. “ _Three months ago_ , when he needed you. Since you weren’t, it _occurred_ to me that maybe what he needed now was some one on one care.”

“You should have handed him over to us.”

“So you could find another crack to lose him in?” he asked, sarcastically. “Not a chance.”

“We need to find Peter,” the principal of the school said, breaking into the verbal sparring. Probably just as well, Happy thought, since the billionaire was clearly warming up to his subject and wasn’t holding back. “Right now that’s what is best for him.”

“Yes.” Miller looked at Stark. “I assume he hasn’t contacted you.”

“Not that I know of. I gave him a phone for emergencies, but he’s not answering.”

The counselor held up a cell, which Tony recognized as the same model as the one he’d given Peter.

“It was in his backpack, which he left here. Along with his jacket.”

“It’s raining like a _sonofabitch_ out there,” Tony said, adding yet another thing to be worried about. “If he’s out in this, he’s going to catch a chill.”

“We have the police looking for him,” Miller assured him. “Can you think of any place he might go? A _safe_ place?”

“No. My place? Maybe. Except that I’m not completely sure he knows _exactly_ where it is. He was out of it the first time Happy and I took him there, and we haven’t exactly been out and about a lot – not with his injured leg.”

And the few times they were, the boy was decidedly distracted by himself in the car. But maybe,

“He says he went to the batting cages,” the counselor said.

“Yes. And took a shot from a baseball, as he _told_ you.” He scowled, fury rising up in him once more to drown out the worry for just a moment. “ _Goddamn_ you people. You’ll check a cut lip and not bother with obvious weight loss, or the fact that he was out of school for a week? Maybe lying dead in the alley from a gunshot wound? The kid is skin and bones. _Someone_ had to have noticed.”

“There are a _lot_ of children here,” the principal said, defensively. “We can’t monitor them all the time.”

“All the more reason for him to have been with me, then,” Tony told her, looking at all of them.

“Where else?” Miller asked, ignoring the attitude. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard complaints, obviously, and she knew they did the best they could with the resources that they had.

“I don’t know. He told me that he was sleeping in the library, but not which one, and said that he was only eating at school, for the most part – so no restaurants, obviously.”

“We’d like to put someone at your house – in case he goes there.”

“Not a chance in hell. First of all; I’m not going to give you carte blanche to do anything in my _private_ residence, and secondly, he’d see them and stay away.”

“If he comes to you for help, you would be wise to turn him over to us.”

“If he comes to me for help, I’m going to make sure I’m in the right position to give it to him,” Tony snapped. “You people _had_ your chance to help him. _All of you_. You dropped the ball. Stay away from my apartment building, or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

He stormed out of the room, with Happy behind him, heading through the building and back to the car. The sky, already dark from the storm, was beginning to show signs of the fast approaching evening, and there was no sign of the rain stopping any time soon.

“Where to, boss?” Happy asked.

Tony sighed, settling in. He couldn’t think of any place to look, first-hand, and shook his head, frustrated. “My place. I need to be there if he comes for help, and I need to make some calls.”

Besides, FRIDAY was there, and she was his best bet, right now, to find his boy.

>><><><><<<>> 

He waited in the alley as long as he could, but by the time the sun had gone down, Peter needed to find someplace else to be. Tony wasn’t coming. Maybe he hadn’t received the message, yet. It had been later in the day when he’d arrived at the tower and maybe he wouldn’t get the note until the next day. Whatever it was, the boy knew he couldn’t stay where he was.

For one thing, it was too exposed. He was already soaked and shivering, and there was no place to take cover from the rain. For another, it was dangerous for someone as young as he was to be out in the open at night. He was a target for every mugger and pervert that walked the alleys – and Peter knew that there were some out there. He’d met up with them, and escaped them, simply because he was faster and a lot stealthier than they were.

He went to the roofs. They were familiar to him, and not a lot of people were as comfortable with heights as he was. He’d have snuck into the library, out of the rain and the cold, but he was worried that someone might think to look for him there, and he didn’t want to be trapped in an enclosed space. All he had to do, he decided as he found an overhang in a sheltered corner and hunkered down with his arms inside his sleeves wrapped around his body to try and stay warm, was wait. Once the bruises were gone, he’d allow them to find him, again – unless Tony showed up and had a better plan.

Peter shivered, feeling his stomach growl. Hungry, cold and alone once again, he couldn’t help the wave of self pity that suddenly came over him. He wanted nothing more than to have Happy drive up, suddenly, with Tony in the back of the car, hugging him tightly and telling him how wonderful he was, and how happy he was to see him. He certainly didn’t feel brave, just then, so that one was off the table.

The boy sniffed, wiping tears onto his already soaked shirt, and then remembered that Tony had told him there was money in his wallet – in case he’d needed lunch the day before. Hopefully, he slid his arm out of his shirt and reached for the wallet in his back pocket, pulling it out with a little difficulty. His hands were cold, and the leather was wet and sticking to his wet jeans.

And he felt a wave of excitement, even as he shivered, again. Tony’s lunch money was a _hundred_ _dollars_. He counted it, again, just because he couldn’t believe it. Five twenty-dollar bills. Peter smiled, relieved. It wasn’t a fortune, but it really _was_. It was enough to let him lay low and heal, anyway. He could get himself a room – not a nice one, but one that would give him protection from the elements. And something to eat, too.

He put his wallet back in his pocket, but stayed where he was, just then.

It was too dangerous for him to move from his hiding spot, right nw. He could do everything he needed to do in the morning, when it was daylight and safe. So what if he didn’t eat dinner? He’d missed meals before. It wasn’t fun, but it wasn’t the end of the world. He sniffed, again, thinking about being cuddled up beside Tony in a warm bed and warm arms, and closed his eyes, hoping to go to sleep and escape some of his misery.

He eventually shivered himself to sleep, but the nightmares followed.

>><><><>

"Anything?"

_"Not yet."_

Tony had set FRIDAY to checking all security cameras, looking for anyone close to Peter's build and then using facial recognition. The boy had been in the apartment and at the tower, now, and both were places where the AI would have all the different angles needed to get a good scan of him. The problem was that there were a _lot_ of security cameras in the city, and even for FRIDAY that was going to take time.

He sighed, and threw himself down onto the sofa, and then got up, pacing, anxiously, stopping and looking once more at the security cameras around the building, hoping for a sign of a slightly built figure lurking around - or even brazenly coming up to the door. There was nothing.

"Come on, honey..." he murmured, going to the window and watching the rain falling, outside. "Where _are_ you?"


	33. 33

The next morning was chilly and still raining. Peter was on the move as soon as it was light enough, though. He was exhausted, and so cold that he didn’t think he’d ever be warm, again. The lobby of the hotel opened at seven o'clock and even though it was a dingy place, they rented rooms by the day and they were cheap. The boy had used the roof of the building many times as a place to watch the city below, and was familiar with it – and the kind of people that lived there. He didn't want any part of them, but he definitely wanted some place out of the weather. He was tired of being cold.

He entered the lobby and after a quick conversation with the desk clerk, he obtained a room for eight days, sliding four of his precious twenties across the caged counter and waiting for the clerk to write him a receipt and hand over the key to one of the smallest rooms on the very top floor. They were the cheapest, since the building didn’t have an elevator, and no one wanted to walk twenty flights after a long day.

Peter didn’t care.

He didn’t think he’d actually _need_ eight days; Tony would get the message before that, he hoped, and they’d figure out what to do before he ran out of time. Or his bruises would clear up, maybe. The boy took the key and his receipt, and then headed out one more time, even though he wanted nothing more than to go lie down and get some sleep. He needed something to _eat_ , and it was going to have to be cheap.

Ironically, he went to the convenience store that had been robbed by the man who’d shot him. Careful budgeting allowed him to buy two loaves of bread and some bologna, a jar of peanut butter and some cans of canned spaghetti and meatballs that would taste better heated, but he knew _could_ be eaten cold. His new room had a small kitchen, he’d been told by the bored clerk, but Peter didn’t have any pots or pans.

Or _dishes_ , for that matter. He splurged and bought a corn dog for breakfast, taking a great handful of condiments, napkins and plastic spoons. The boy wolfed the corndog as he made his way quickly to the hotel, walked up the stairs, ignoring how much it hurt his legs, which was throbbing from abuse and cold, and finally reached his room, limping, painfully.

He unlocked it, closed the door and locked it again behind him – including the chain _and_ the deadbolt – and looked around. It was tiny; there was room for the bed, a cheap wooden chair, and a rod with some empty hangers served as a closet. The window was dirty and the curtain was black, probably to hide how dirty _it_ was, as well. The bed didn’t have a pillow, but there were two blankets on it, and they didn’t smell too bad. He saw the stove, a tiny sink and a fridge, and set his groceries on the counter. The tiny bathroom only had a toilet, but he was just glad that he didn’t have to share with the rest of the floor like some places did.

The best thing about the room – at least at the moment – was the fact that the building was old and used a radiator and it was so warm it was almost painful to Peter, who was chilled to the bone. He pulled off his soaking wet clothing and draped them over the counter to dry and wrapped himself in the cleanest of the two blankets.

He’d go out, later, and watch for Tony, but first he needed some sleep. He looked around the room, feeling alone and incredibly vulnerable. Trembling almost violently, he lay down on the squeaky bed and cried himself to sleep, again.

<>>><<><>>>>< 

“Anything?”

Tony shook his head, looking at four different displays, watching as FRIDAY scanned through countless amounts of video footage in front of him. As a way to cut down useless searching, Tony had her ignore Staten Island, completely. It was just too far away, really, and he couldn’t think of any reason that Peter would go there. That left a lot of ground to cover, and a lot of video feeds, but the AI could handle more than one at a time.

Tony had advised her to start with the school’s video, had FRIDAY followed Peter’s progress out the door and through an alley without any trouble – confirming that Peter didn’t have anything on but a t-shirt and jeans as protection from the elements, and a shot from an ATM surveillance camera had given Tony a good look at the boy’s face, which was pale and terrified.

They’d followed his progress a few blocks, heading toward the water, and then FRIDAY had lost track of him, as if the boy was purposely trying to avoid detection.

The billionaire decided what he’d really done was go to the _roofs_ , where he could avoid people more easily and probably find a place to hide himself, hopefully calming himself down enough to think. Unfortunately, there weren’t a lot of video cameras trained on _rooftops_. And that was going to make things difficult. Not to mention, Peter didn't have the webshooters on, so he wasn't going to be doing any swinging.

“No. Not yet.”

“I could go out and drive around,” Happy offered. “Maybe check the _libraries_? See if he’s hanging out in one to stay out of the rain.”

“FRIDAY’s watching the libraries,” Tony told him, not turning from the displays. “Thanks. It’s a good idea.”

Happy watched Stark for a minute, silently, and shook his head. The man had been staring at the displays almost nonstop now for more than forty hours. Peter had been missing for two days

“You should get some sleep. I’ll watch things for you.”

“No. I’m fine.” He looked over at him. “Is she here, yet?”

“She’s on her way up. That’s what I came to tell you.”

Before he finished processing what he was being told, the door to the apartment chimed and Happy went over to open it. Natasha Romanoff walked in, with Steve Rogers beside her.

“I got your message,” she said without preamble. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Peter,” Stark told them. “He’s gone to ground, somewhere. I need help finding him.”

He turned from the displays and sat down on the couch, rubbing his face, tiredly. Then told the two of them what had happened, as far as he knew.

“So you want me to find him before CPS does?” Romanoff asked.

“No. I don’t care who finds him,” he told her. “I just want him _found_. He’s scared, might be hurt, and he’s alone.”

“But _if_ I find him before CPS?”

“Then take him directly to the compound – unless he’s injured and needs a hospital, of course. CPS can wait their turn. They didn’t do diddlyshit for him, before, so they’ll have to forgive me if I don’t trust them to handle things properly, now.”

Rogers frowned.

“We can’t kidna-“

“ _I_ can,” Romanoff said, interrupting. “I’ll take care of it.”

She had a lot of contacts, after all; SHIELD and otherwise. Looking for one little guy in a city filled with them would be difficult, but not impossible.

“Get some sleep, Tony,” Steve said. “When we find him, he’s going to need you, and you’re not going to be any help to him if you’re a zombie.”

“I know.”

He _did_. He just couldn’t help but worry.

><<><><>>>> 

“What are you doing here so late? I thought you had a date.”

The man scowled.

“She has a headache, or some other bullshit excuse. So I’m finishing up some things for Miss Potts and then I’ll go home and binge watch Big Bang Theory or something.”

“Right. So you’re _really_ going to go home and watch _porn_.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“What do you have left? I’ll help.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. Unpaid interns have to stick together, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks. Do the INBOX for me, will you? Just sort who each message goes to – and don’t bother putting any for Mr. Stark into _his_ mail slot, he’s out for a few days. Everything for him goes to Miss Potts.”

“Man, I’d watch porn with her…”

“Are you fucking _trying_ to get fired?”

“What?”

“There are security cameras everywhere, dillweed. They’re probably listening to us, right now.”

“Whatever. They have better things to do than watch the _lobby_. All the interesting stuff happens in the offices; everyone knows that.”

“Yeah, but those are secured and encrypted.”

“Huh. Speaking of _encrypted_ , check this out. ‘ _Tony, I need to see you. Meet where you found me. Please. – Peter’._ What do you suppose that’s all about?”

“Who knows? Maybe it’s a fanboy letter.”

“Throw it away?”

“No. Put it in Miss Potts’ slot. Let _her_ deal with it. It might be something important, and I don’t want to lose my job because a message went awry.”

_“Seriously?”_

“What?”

“No one talks like that. _Jesus_.”

“Just put it in her box, alright? God.”

“Relax. There. Done. _Happy_?”

“I will be when we’re finished.”

“Yeah.”


	34. 34

_“Miss Potts is at the door.”_

“What? Why?”

_“I didn’t ask. Do I let her in?”_

Tony sighed, tiredly. Three days, now, and still not a word from Peter – although FRIDAY had found a video clip of Peter – ironically – in the convenience store near where Tony had initially found him. That had sent him and Happy back there, where they spent an entire afternoon driving around, focusing on the alley and looking for any sign of the boy. Only to leave disappointed when it was just too dark to see anything.

He hadn’t heard from Natasha Romanoff, either. Not since the day before when she mentioned that someone might have a lead for her, and asked if Peter had had any money on him. Tony mentioned putting some twenties in the boy’s wallet, but admitted that it hadn’t been much.

He was exhausted and worn down with lack of sleep and worry. _Definitely_ not in the mood or mindset to handle a verbal clash with Pepper Potts. However, she was at the _door_ , and not on the phone. Which made her much harder to ignore.

“Yes. Let her in.”

Whatever she’d been planning to say died on her lips when she entered Tony’s living room.

“What the hell is going on?”

“ _What_?”

“You look terrible.”

“Did you _need_ something?”

It wasn’t the first time. She’d seen him in the throes of a project, before, where he would spend days on end working without seeming to take a break. This was just like that – only not quite the same. Being worried took a lot out of a person.

“Who is Peter?”

Tony gave her a sharp look.

“Why do you ask?”

“Tell me who he is, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Pepper. I don’t have time for games. Where did you-“

“I don’t have the patience to wait you out, Tony. Tell me who he is, or I’m walking out right now, and you can go to hell.”

He sighed.

“He’s a guy Happy and I found in Queens.”

“And…?”

Obviously, there was more to the story than that.

Tony gave her the same story that everyone else had. The truth, only somewhat edited. Pepper was perceptive, but she didn’t press beyond what she’d been told. She didn’t know if she even wanted to.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“I _did_. Sort of. Remember? I was talking to you about becoming a foster parent.”

“Oh.”

“And you said it was a bad idea.”

“It _is_ a bad idea, Tony. There are other ways to help this Peter kid. If you’d have _asked_ me, I’d have told you – and we could have it all sorted bef-“

“I don’t need a _lecture_ ,” he snapped. “What do you know about him?”

“I know that he left a message for you in the lobby Tuesday,” she said, holding up a piece of paper.

Stark snatched it from her hand and read it.

“Shit.”

“Well? Is it going to help?”

He sighed.

“No. I’ve _been_ there. Happy and I were there all day, yesterday. FRIDAY found a video of him close by so I thought I’d try and see if he was around.”

“No luck?”

“No.” he scowled, looking at the note, again. “ _Fuck_. He’s going to think I blew him off – or worse. _Sonofabitch_.”

“When is the last time you _slept_?” she asked, suddenly.

“I don’t know.”

“And eaten?”

“Earlier.”

“When, _earlier_?”

“Earlier. I’ve got things to do. Thank you for the message. Anything else?”

“Sit down,” she ordered him, walking over and taking his hand, pulling him to the sofa. “You need some sleep.”

He did what she said, but he was tense, and distracted. Definitely not in the mood to be bossed around, just then.

“Pepper…”

“Sit right there. I’m going to make you something to eat, and then, when I know that you’ve eaten, I’ll leave you alone. Fair?”

“I’m fine. I don’t-“

“I _mean_ it.”

He gave a tired sigh, and nodded. She was right; it wouldn’t hurt him to eat. FRIDAY was right there. If she found something while he was eating, she’d tell him. He didn’t have to be _watching_ the display.

“Fine. A sandwich, though. Something quick.”

“Of course.”

Pepper went into the kitchen and opened his fridge and frowned when she found that he’d allowed the fresh produce to brown up, or become soft, depending on what it was. Out of character for him, but not unheard of when he was distracted.

“I assume you’re planning on bringing him back _here_ when you find him?” she asked, pulling a loaf of bread.

“Of course.”

“The CPS woman you mentioned will have something to say about that.”

He gave a soft, amused, snort, leaning his head back against the leather of the sofa and closing his eyes.

“She _might_. But I went so far over her head that if she tries to even _look_ up that high, she’ll get a nose bleed.”

“Let me look at options,” Pepper said. “Fostering him might not be your best choice to help him.”

“I can’t think of a better way to protect him from the system,” the billionaire pointed out.

She fell silent, already making her own plans of who to call when she left, looking at everything from a legal standpoint. She made him a simple sandwich, cheese and turkey, the best pieces of the limp lettuce, tomatoes and the disgusting mayo that he liked so well. She hummed to herself as she put it together, and then cut it into two for him.

By the time she brought it to him, though, he had fallen asleep where he sat.

Pepper smiled, and wrapped the sandwich in plastic, putting it in the fridge. Then she covered him with a blanket that was draped over the couch and headed for the door.

“FRIDAY? Tell him his sandwich is in the fridge when he wakes up and nag him until he eats it.”

Without another word, she left, turning the lights off behind her.

She had some calls to make.

><><><><><><< 

“You’re _sure_?”

“ _Pretty_ sure.”

“You understand how annoyed I’ll be if you’re lying to me…?”

The desk clerk nodded, cowed and aroused at the same time. She was incredibly sexy, but he was terrified of her.

“I’m not. It’s _him_. He came in five days ago and rented a room upstairs. I remember because he was so wet, and thin.”

“Where is he, now?”

“I don’t know – I haven’t seen him since then.”

She looked at a security camera, drawing his eyes that way as well.

“Fake?”

“Yeah.”

“What room?”

“I don’t…” he looked at the books. “2003.”

“You don’t mention me. Understand?”

“Yeah.”

Romanoff made a slight gesture with her head, and she was suddenly joined by Steve Rogers, who had been guarding the lobby door and listening to her intimidate the desk clerk.

“You know… you’re kind of _scary_.”

She smiled.

“Yeah. I get that vibe, sometimes.”

They were slightly out of breath by the time they made it to the top floor, and the assassin walked to the door that was marked 2003. She put her ear to it, looking at Steve as she listened.

“Hear anything?”

“Someone coughing.”

“ _Young_ someone?”

“It’s a cough, Steve,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Not singing in the shower.”

She tapped, lightly on the door, but there was no response – and she hadn’t really expected one. She heard the cough, again, a little louder.

“We should have gotten the key,” Rogers said. “I’m not thrilled with the idea of going all the way back down to get it.”

“We don’t need it.”

She pulled out a knife and flipped it open, and jimmied the door for all of three seconds. Then a quick motion to undo the security chain as she opened it, and without a sound the two of them were suddenly in the room.

“Ugh…”

It smelled terrible, and they both felt their eyes watering almost immediately.

Romanoff went to the bed, frowning at the boy, who was bundled in the blankets, which were soiled with urine and worse. She saw his clothes on the chair near the window. The room was boiling hot - which probably added to the reek.

“Peter?”

Her soft query was answered with a racking cough, and she shook her head.

“He’s sick.”

“Take him to the hospital sick?” Steve asked. “Or to the compound sick?”

“Peter?” she tapped his cheek, gently, which was flushed and red. He opened his eyes at the contact, and she saw they were dull and tired. But he looked at her. “Hey… wake up.”

“ _Natasha_?”

She nodded, and looked at Steve. He wasn't delirious.

“We’ll take him to the compound.” Romanoff pulled the blankets off him, carefully, and tossed them aside. He was naked and covered in his own filth. “As soon as we get him cleaned up.”

Rogers nodded.

“I’ll go find some towels.”

“Stay with us, okay?” she told the boy, running her fingers through his dirty, messy hair. “We’re going to get you straightened out and feeling better.”

“I’m tired…”

The complaint ended with a deep cough than left him trembling and leaning against her.

“It’s okay,” Romanoff assured him. “We’ve got you. You can rest.”

When Rogers returned a few minutes later with a couple of somewhat clean towels, they wet them down and wiped the boy’s body as clean as they could. She noted in passing that his leg looked like it was almost healed – a small victory, but if it hadn’t been, the open wound would have almost certainly infected. So they’d take it.

Steve held Peter while they dressed him in his own jeans and t-shirt, and then scooped him up into his arms, easily.

“Got him?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t mention that the boy was painfully light. They’d both seen those ribs and his gaunt face.

“Let’s get out of here. I’ll call Tony from the car.”


	35. 35

Happy was in the apartment when the call came in through FRIDAY. Tony closed his eyes, relieved, and felt the driver slap his shoulder, excitedly.

There wasn’t a lot of information to give him, Romanoff told them. She and Steve had Peter, who was clearly sick and was in and out of lucidness just then. They were on their way to the compound, and she’d already called ahead and Robert would be waiting for them.

“I’ll drive you out there,” Happy told him.

“I can drive myself,” he assured him. “Or better _yet_ , I’ll go Ironman and get there even sooner that way.”

“ _I_ want to check on him, too,” he was told. Besides, there was no way Stark should be behind the wheel of a car just then. Not as wiped out as he was. Probably better not to have him in a suit of high-tech _armor_ , either. “You’ll want to pack him some clothes, though.”

“Yes. Good point.”

While Happy made a quick meal of sandwiches to feed Stark on the drive, the billionaire went into Peter’s room and grabbed a couple of changes of clothes for the boy, feeling another surge of relief go through him as he and his driver met in the living room. Happy took the bundle of clothes from him and hit the elevator button.

“Let’s go see how he’s doing.”

<<<><<> 

Tony was distracted enough on the drive that he ate everything that Happy handed him. Three sandwiches and two sliced bananas – which was more than he’d had to eat, combined. in a couple of days.

Steve was alerted to their arrival and was waiting when Happy pulled the car up to the entrance to let Stark out by Rogers.

“I’ll park and come find you.”

Tony thanked him and got out, his eyes only on Steve.

“How is he?”

“Dr. Anderson is getting him cleaned up, now, and running tests.”

“Where did you guys find him?”

It hadn’t been important when Romanoff had called, but now he was curious.

“A rent by the day hotel in Queens.”

“How does he look?”

“He was pretty weak,” Steve told him as they walked inside and headed for the infirmary. “Natasha thinks that he was probably in bed for days, to judge by how filthy he was. Too weak to take care of himself. He was coughing when we got him, but he woke up and he knew us – which is why we brought him _here_ , instead of a hospital.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

“You _owe_ me, Tony,” Rogers told him with a smile. “I had to carry him down _nineteen_ flights of stairs. He’s not heavy, but that’s still a _lot_ of stairs.”

Stark actually smiled at that, but lost the smile when they rounded the final corner of the corridor and saw Romanoff leaning against a doorway, watching activity in a room. Tony stopped beside her, reaching for her hand, automatically, as he looked into the room as well.

There were two nurses with Dr. Anderson. All were fussing over Peter, who wasn’t aware of any of the scrutiny, since he was clearly asleep – even from the door. He had an IV stand beside the bed with more than one bag attached to it, and there were tubes and hoses running from the boy to various equipment that was clearly designed to monitor his progress.

“How is he?” Tony asked.

Romanoff squeezed his hand.

“He’s pretty out of it. Sick and underweight – but he was scrawny before, so _that’s_ nothing new. Just the illness.”

“How did you find him?”

“A lot of canvassing in the neighborhood around the convenience store. I conscripted every SHIELD agent I could grab and inundated the area until we got a hit. Sorry it took so long.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Go check on him. I’m going to go get a drink. Come find me, later.”

She squeezed his hand and left him alone in the doorway, Steve following her, and Stark walked in as the doctor looked up at him.

“Tony…” he said, looking down at the boy. “Not exactly what I thought you _meant_ when you offered to save me the house call to check his leg.”

“I know. How is he, Robert?”

“He’s sick, poor guy. Exposure, dehydration – if it’s not pneumonia I’ll kiss your ass in the middle of the street at high noon. Romanoff says he was holed up in a little room and from what she saw he’d managed to buy himself food, but hadn’t eaten any of it. Probably too tired to take care of any of it, initially, and then too weak, after the illness took hold.”

“He’s going to be alright?”

“Yeah. Of course he is. I’ll make sure of that, since I have him here to do it. His leg looks good. I took the opportunity to check on it.” He frowned at the other man, always no nonsense and never afraid to hide it. One of the perks of being incredibly good at your job. “ _You_ look like shit, though. When did you sleep, last?”

“It’s been a while,” the billionaire admitted.

“Well, say hello to him and then go get some sleep. I’ve got him on a fair cocktail of medications, right now, so you’ll be lucky if he can manage more than a hello. Which is _fine_. By the time you’ve managed to get some sleep – and something to eat – and get yourself looking more like yourself so you don’t scare him, he’ll be feeling a little better, as well.”

“Thanks, Robert.”

The doctor and both nurses left the room.

He walked over to the bed, and looked down at the boy sleeping in it. Peter’s face was pale and – if possible – even thinner than Tony remembered it being. The bruise on his lip was almost faded, and the cut was barely noticeable. They’d put him in blue flannel pajamas and had him bundled under several warmed blankets. Stark could hear his raspy breathing even before he sat himself on the edge of the bed. He reached for the boy’s hand and leaned over to put his cheek against Peter’s cheek for a moment.

“Hey, honey,” he whispered, sitting up again and tenderly pushing his bangs back from his forehead. “I’m here…”

Peter reacted, either to the voice that he had almost certainly been waiting to hear, or the touch that he’d ached to feel. Either way, those rich brown eyes that Tony loved so much opened, slowly, and turned his direction. They were glazed over, of course; a result of his illness, or the medication being fed into his system – or both – but Tony smiled to see them open, even if it was only for a moment. He felt the sting of tears and he leaned over, again, his face going into Peter’s shoulder as he sobbed, quietly, relief and fear and every emotion that had a name and many that didn’t all welling up within him, needing to be purged.

As he cried, he felt a tentative touch on his head and Peter’s hand came up to comfort him, although his eyes closed, tiredly. It was a long moment before Tony pulled himself away, reluctantly, and sniffed, wiping his eyes on his shoulder and catching the hand and kissing it, softly, before setting it on the boy’s chest.

“I’m going to let you get some sleep, but I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

There was no response; Peter was asleep, again, but that was fine. Tony kissed his cheek, then brushed his lips, and got up and left him to his rest.


	36. 36

Tony had permanent quarters in the Avengers compound. He _built_ the place, after all, it was only fair that they afforded him a place to sleep if he was in the area and working. He fully intended to go there and get some sleep, but he wanted to stop in and talk to Romanoff and Rogers for a minute, and knew that Happy would come looking for him – once his driver had had a chance to check on Peter, as well.

As such, he walked into the lounge not long after leaving Peter, and sure enough, Natasha and Steve were both there, sharing a table and speaking, softly.

“Well?” Steve asked as Stark got himself a drink and then joined them. “Did he wake up?”

“Only for a minute,” Tony answered. “And he didn’t say anything.”

“He’ll be fine, Tony,” Romanoff assured him. “He’s _tough_.”

“Yes.”

But he _wasn’t_. He was so young, and so fragile, and now he was so very sick.

“Do we need to worry about the authorities looking for him?” Steve asked, curiously.

“No. I’m not going to broadcast that we have him – _yet_ – but if they find out, they’re not going to come to the door looking to take him from us. I had a long discussion about Peter’s case with various high-ranking public officials and have been given temporary custody of him until such time as a permanent solution is applied. Pepper’s working on that. Once we – and that _we_ includes _Peter_ – decide what’s the best course of action, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“They gave you custody of him?”

“ _Temporary_ , but, yes. They really didn’t have a choice. Peter’s an embarrassment to them – they let him fall through the world’s largest crack and for _three months_. I reminded them that I am a very loud and vocal person with a billion followers on social media and plenty of time to post anything that might suit my fancy. They didn’t exactly bend over backward to do what I said, but no one complained – _publicly_ – when Pepper asked the judge for the injunction.”

“So he’s fine here, then, until he’s healthy,” Natasha said, approvingly, looking over as Happy walked into the lounge, too, and went to get a drink before he joined them. “Good. We’ll be able to keep a better eye on him, here.”

“Agreed.” Stark looked at Happy. “You saw him?”

“Yeah. He looks awful.”

“Should have seen him two hours ago,” Steve said.

“How did you track him to the hotel?” Tony asked, Natasha.

“One of the SHIELD guys asked the right homeless person. We were flashing his school photo to everyone. Guy saw him go into the hotel on Wednesday morning with a bag of groceries and didn’t see him come out. Homeless people are pretty observant. They have to be in order to find their next meal – or fix.”

“We’ll want to find that guy and reward him.”

“Already did.”

“You’re sticking around here?” Happy asked the billionaire.

“Yes. Thanks. _You_ don’t need to, though. I’m not going to be going anywhere for a while.”

The driver shrugged.

“I’ll wait around until I know he’s awake and talking.”

“We’ll get you a room,” Steve told him.

“Speaking of,” Natasha said. “You look like you could use some rest, yourself. Go get some sleep, Tony.”

“I want to be there when Peter wakes up.”

“I’ll watch him and call you. _Go_. And do something with the stubble on your _face_ , too. You look _scruffy_.”

Stark finished his drink and did what he was told. He left them to their conversation and went to his quarters. He took a shower, first, shaving while he was in there because he couldn’t stand the thought of looking scruffy – which was probably why Romanoff had used that particular word in the _first_ place – and then went to bed, curling up to a pillow and trying to pretend it was Peter next to him, holding him close and keeping the bad dreams away.

><><><<<>> 

True to her word, when Tony walked into the infirmary several hours later, looking much more rested and refreshed than he had, Natasha was seated in a chair next to the bed Peter was sleeping in. She had her feet propped up on the edge of the bed and was sharpening a knife, patiently, and smiled when she saw him enter the room.

“You look better.”

“I feel better. Thank you. Has he woken?”

“No. Hasn’t moved since I sat down. They’ve been in and out changing IV bags and his breathing isn’t quite as hoarse, I think. They gave him some kind of treatment; blew some medication down into his lungs or something with a pipe-looking thing. It was _creepy_.”

Stark smiled. This from a woman who was sharpening a dagger just to keep herself from being _bored_?

“As long as it works.”

“Do you have him, then?”

“Yeah. I’ll stick around and keep an eye on him. I said thanks?”

“You _did_.”

“Thanks, Natasha.”

She smiled, standing up and stretching as she put the knife away.

“You’re welcome. I’ll check in on you when they bring breakfast.”

There weren’t any windows, but Tony had a watch and knew it was just past midnight, now. He realized something else, as well, suddenly.

“Do me a favor and have someone order up a birthday cake.”

“It’s his birthday?”

“Not, yet, but he’ll turn sixteen in three days. I had _planned_ on making it, myself, and having an Avenger theme. I won’t make it, but given our current location, I think the theme is appropriate. Looks like there’ll be a few more than I anticipated.”

The assassin smiled at that.

“I’m not your personal secretary, Tony.”

“I know.”

“But I don’t mind being _Peter’s_ – for the day, anyway. I’ll take care of the cake. _You’ll_ have to figure out the guest list.”

He shrugged.

“It won’t be a long one, we already know that.”

“We’ll see about that. As long as he’s well enough to enjoy it.”

She left without another word, brushing her hand along his shoulder, supportively. Rather than take the chair that she’d abandoned, Tony, settled himself on the edge of the bed. He didn’t want to pester Peter, but he wanted to reassure himself, and he wanted to see those brown eyes, once more.

He reached down and touched the porcelain cheek with tender fingertips.

“Peter?”

There wasn’t an immediate response, but Tony wasn’t in any hurry, and he didn’t press. He just continued to brush his fingers against Peter’s cheek, then his jaw and his neck, relieved and satisfied with simply being with him and caressing him. Reassuring himself that he was really there, and was really going to be alright. He murmured gentle words of encouragement to the boy as he touched him, reminding him just how wonderful he was. How strong. How amazing.

Eventually the boy’s eyes fluttered open and he looked around, owlishly, without moving his head – which was probably aching, Stark decided.

“Honey? Look at me…”

Peter did, and the boy’s expression went from slightly pained and uncertain to worried and scared.

“Tony…?”

He smiled, immediately trying to reassure, without overwhelming him. With the medications he was on, Tony knew he’d need to be slow and methodical to avoid confusing or scaring the boy.

“Hey, honey. You’re okay.”

“I’m okay…?”

“Yeah. You’re safe. We’re at the compound.”

“Oh.”

“How do you feel?”

Peter closed his eyes, which told Stark _exactly_ how he felt without words. But Peter eventually _did_ answer.

“Tired.”

His voice sounded _beyond_ tired, really.

“Yeah. Go back to sleep, okay?”

Peter raised a hand. Not far; about to his side. A wordless entreaty followed by a gentle admission in a hoarse whisper.

“I’m afraid…”

Tony took the hand, leaning over and kissing the boy’s cheek, and then his lips, gently.

“You don’t _have_ to be. I’m _here_. I’ll stay with you, honey.”

The boy opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something else, but instead he nodded, and his grip went limp as he fell asleep, once more.

Stark released his hand and transferred over to the chair and settled in, listening to the monitors and the sound of Peter’s raspy breathing.


	37. 37

Peter’s sleep was restless. Images were flashing through his mind so quickly that his illness-muddled and drug-fuddled mind couldn’t actually hold onto them long enough to make any sense of them, but slow enough that he could see them and feel the anxiety and other emotions that came with them.  Images of the rain and the corner of the roof that he’d huddled in. The people from the school and the state were always chasing him, no matter where he tried to hide. The dingy room where he’d disgraced himself by wetting the bed, because he just couldn’t pull himself out of it in time to make it to the bathroom.

He heard voices, too; Tony’s most frequently. The billionaire whispering into his ear, assuring him that he was there, reminding him, gently, that he was _fine_ , was _wanted_ , was _safe_ and was very much _loved_. There was also a woman, and his tired mind was _sure_ that it was Natasha Romanoff, even though his more lucid moments left him wondering why he would be imagining that there were _Avengers_ hanging out with him, talking to him in his sleep. Even the others, but he wasn't so certain.

The dreams were the scariest, though. He kept seeing Tony leave him. Mad at him for running away, or mad at him for _staying_. It seemed that he couldn’t win, either way. He apologized, repeatedly, and promised not to do it, again, ignoring the disembodied voices that told him he didn’t have any reason to apologize, at all.

And he was _always_ cold.

Even when he felt like he was burning up, he was shivering and asking for them to turn up the heat. It was never enough, either. They would tell him he was fine; they would even be right beside him in the bed, holding him close and allowing him to share their body heat, and still he shook, with cold and with fear.

He heard Tony’s voice. Heard a feminine reply and then a warm body settle in beside him in the bed, arms going around him and a warmed blanket being pulled up around them and tucked under him. _Warm_ blankets. A warm body. Secure and suddenly not as restless, Peter sighed, and suddenly realized that he wasn’t so _cold_ , after all, either. He drifted off, again, but the dreams stayed away, and so did the cold.

><<><><<<>> 

“How’s he doing?”

Tony looked down at the boy who was tucked against his side, and then at Steve.

“Fever broke in the middle of the night. He’s finally getting some real sleep.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Yeah.”

“Need me to take him for a while?”

Stark shook his head, but offered up a smile. The Avengers might not know about Peter’s extraordinary abilities, but they had certainly rallied around the boy as if he were one of them. The ones that had actually met him had all been in to check on him one way or another – including Bruce and Happy, even – and Steve and Natasha had both spelled Tony those times when he’d been sent to get sleep or something to eat by the medical staff. Neither of them had shown any self-consciousness when it came to taking Stark’s spot beside the boy, sharing warmth and security as he needed it. Peter was always restless, no matter who was with him, and always trembled in their arms.

“No. Thanks, Steve. I’ll stay with him until Robert sends me packing.”

The one disadvantage to being at the compound instead of at his apartment; the people around him were – in many ways – as strong-willed as _he_ was, and had no problem telling him what to do and nagging him mercilessly until he did it. Of course, the benefits of being where they were greatly overrode that minor nuisance, and Tony was relieved that Peter’s recovery was in more competent hands than his own.

The cough was minimal, now – although his breathing was still _raspy_ – and now the fever was gone, as well, taking the shaking with it.

“Call me if you need me.”

“I will, thanks.”

Rogers left, and Tony turned his attention to the boy, once more, shifting just a little to get more comfortable and move Peter to a more comfortable position. They’d moved him into an actual bed rather than a hospital one, since he didn’t need to be mobile for testing or anything, and it would be more comfortable, too.

It was definitely more comfortable for those lounging next to him.

“Tony…?”

Moving him must have woken him, Stark realized, brushing his hand against Peter’s cheek and looking down to see that his eyes were, in fact open. And looking a little less confused than they had been, lately.

“Hi, honey. I’m here.”

“Where are we?”

His voice was just above a whisper, but there wasn’t any fear or anxiety in it, like he’d shown the many times he’d started apologizing in response to God only knew what terrible things were playing out in his illness-fogged mind.

“The Avenger’s compound.”

Tony had told him that before, of course, in the many one-sided conversations that he’d had with the boy while trying to calm him. This time, he seemed to be paying more attention.

“Really?”

“Yeah, Peter. When you’re feeling better, we’ll show you around, okay?”

He nodded, closing his eyes, but burying his face against Tony’s shirt.

“I’d like that.”

“Do you _hurt_ , honey?”

“No. Is my leg okay?”

“It’s _fine_. Almost completely healed, Robert says.”

Peter was silent for a minute and Tony thought that he might have fallen asleep again, if not for the tenseness he could feel in the slim body huddled against him.

“Did you ask him if he golfs?”

The billionaire chuckled, relieved that he was well enough – or at least lucid enough – to remember that question was one that he’d been planning on asking the doctor.

“No, baby. Not yet. Remind me the next time he comes in, okay?”

“Alright.” Another pause, and then the hand holding him tightened. “I waited for you.”

Tony gathered Peter into his arms, mindful of the wires and tubes but needing to reassure him with his touch. He felt his eyes stinging, and forced down the tears that threatened at the thought that Peter might believe that he’d abandoned him when he’d needed him the most.

“I _know_ , honey,” he said, rocking the boy, tenderly. “I didn’t get the message until it was too late. I’m so sorry.”

“I love you.”

Stark smiled, brushing his fingers through Peter’s hair, soothing him.

“I love you, too. Get some sleep, okay? I have something planned for you when you’re feeling better.”

“What?”

“It’s a surprise. Go to sleep.”

Peter might have argued if he were feeling better, but the short conversation that they’d had was all he was up to, at the moment. He was too tired for much more, and the fact that he went back to sleep so quickly was proof of it. Tony held him until he was certain that he was asleep, and then eased him back into the position beside him, which would be more comfortable with all the wires.

He pulled the blanket back up over the sleeping boy and picked up his tablet once more, picking up where he’d been when Steve had come in to check on them.


	38. 38

When Peter woke, next, he was alone in the bed. But not _alone_. He opened his eyes, finding himself on his back, propped into an upright position by a mountain of pillows, presumably. He was in a small room, with white walls, no windows, and very little furniture aside from the bed that he was in. There was a TV on the wall directly in front of him, an open door that led to a bathroom, and when he turned his head, he saw that there was a chair beside the bed.

Occupied at the moment by Natasha Romanoff, who was holding a book in her hand, but set it aside when he turned his head, and smiled at him.

“Good _morning_.”

It was a gentle smile, that made her eyes warm and made Peter want to smile, too.

“Morning.”

His voice was raspy, his throat dry. Peter coughed, softly, and she reached for a cup with a straw and held it toward him.

“Here, Peter, take a sip.”

It was only water, but it was exactly what he wanted. He was so _thirsty_. She pulled it away before he had as much as he wanted, though, with an apologetic look.

“We’re not supposed to let you have too much at a time,” the Avenger told him. “Your stomach isn’t giving you any problems right now, and Robert wants to keep it that way.”

He nodded, looking around, again.

“I’m _really_ at the compound?”

“You are,” she confirmed. “We brought you here five days ago.”

He brought his head down to the pillow, too tired to hold it up. _Five days_. He was never going to catch up on the schoolwork that he was missing. There was no way. Presuming he was even allowed back after taking off like he had. Maybe they’d put him in jail, or something to keep him from running, again. Wherever it was, it wasn’t going to have Tony. Or Avengers. The thought made him tear up, and Romanoff noticed, immediately, of course, and responded, automatically – even though she didn’t know why he was upset.

She reached out and brushed his too long hair back from his forehead, tenderly.

“It’s _okay_ , Peter. We’re happy you’re here. We _want_ you here.”

He sniffed, gathering the shredded remains of what little dignity he had left – bawling in front of an _Avenger_ ; they’d never take him seriously.

“You found me?”

Did he remember that right?

She nodded, still brushing her fingers against his forehead.

“Steve and I did. Tony was so worried about you. So we went out hunting for you, found you, scooped you up and brought you back here to make sure you were taken care of, properly.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Where’s Tony?”

“He’s off sleeping,” she replied. “Or he’s _supposed_ to be. He doesn’t always do what they tell him to do.” She smiled. “We’re supposed to tell Robert when you wake up enough to have an actual conversation so he can feed you – _breakfast_ , in this case. Can you stay awake?”

He nodded.

“Yes. I think so.”

“Good.” She leaned over and brushed a gentle kiss against his forehead as she stood. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

He wasn’t _going_ anywhere, obviously. He saw that he was hooked up – with wires – to what he recognized as an IV, and wondered what the clear fluid that was being administered was. He’d seen enough movies and hospital dramas to know that one was probably saline to keep him from dehydrating, but the other could be anything.

Before he had much chance to do more than that, there was a gentle tap at the door and it opened, admitting the doctor Peter remembered having met at Tony’s when he’d looked at his leg, and Natasha. That reminded him that he wanted to look at his leg and see how it looked, but he didn’t have a chance, just then.

“Peter,” the doctor said, smiling. “I’m glad to see you awake and alert. How do you feel?”

“A little tired,” he admitted.

“Yes. That’s to be expected. Do you remember me?”

“Robert.”

“Excellent.” The doctor pressed a cool hand against the boy’s forehead. “Do you know where you are?”

“At the Avenger’s compound.”

“And how old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

Natasha smiled.

“ _Wrong_. Today’s your birthday. You’re _sixteen_.”

He looked over at her.

“Really?”

“Scouts honor.” She held up two fingers, like she was taking an oath. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

He smiled.

“Wow.”

Robert smiled, too, and another person – a big, hulking guy who probably weighed twice what Peter did – walked in, carrying a tray with some medical implements on it.

“Why don’t we clear some of this equipment, then, and then feed you some breakfast to celebrate?” the doctor asked, gesturing to the man to set the tray on the bed by Peter.

“Okay.”

“Natasha? _Scoot_.”

She rolled her eyes, but got up and did as she was told, and Peter would have told him she didn’t mind her being there, but a moment later he was relieved that she’d been sent away, since some of the equipment had been a catheter and Peter was uncomfortable enough when it was removed – he definitely wouldn’t have wanted her in the room with them.

“I was sick?” Peter asked Robert.

“You’re _still_ sick,” he confirmed. “We’ve got it under control, now, though. Do what we tell you to do and I’ll have you on your feet in a couple of weeks.”

“A couple of _weeks_?”

“Yes. Don’t be so surprised. Being underweight like you were made you susceptible to getting sick, and being exposed to the weather we had, before, was just pneumonia waiting to happen. You’re going to need to get a lot of rest, more than anything, and gain some weight back. On the plus side, your _leg_ looks good, so we’re not going to have to worry about that.”

“Oh.”

He was still trying to wrap his mind around being in bed for a couple of more weeks.

They finished clearing all the equipment, including the IVs, and covered him up, again.

“Breakfast is on its way,” the doctor told him. “We’re going to keep you in here, today, and see how you’re looking tomorrow. You can get up to use the bathroom – with _help_ – but other than that, you stay in bed, alright? You’re going to be weak from being asleep for so long and I don’t want you taking a fall.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

He smiled.

“You’re welcome. Now-“

Whatever he said was interrupted by another knock on the door, and this time it was Tony Stark who stuck his head into the room. Peter felt his heart pound faster and a little surge of something that was a cross between giddiness and happiness when he saw him.

“Am I interrupting?”

“No. Come in,” the doctor said. “I was just telling Peter my expectations for the day, and you might as well hear them, too.”

Tony walked over, his eyes on Peter, who was watching him. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, with an unzipped sweatshirt over it, sleeves pushed up.

“How do you feel?” he asked the boy as he moved out of the way of Robert, but found a good spot to sit on the edge of Peter’s bed, close at hand.

“Okay. A little tired.”

“No headaches, and his breathing’s pretty clear,” the doctor confirmed. “We’ve taken out the catheter and the IV lines, which means he’s on his own for better or worse. I want him in bed, today, except for trips to the bathroom. If you’re not here to help him, then call for one of the nurses to give him a hand. He’s not to be on his feet for more than that. He probably won’t want to be.”

“It’s his birthday, Robert.”

“I’m aware.”

“Maybe one little excursion tonight?”

The doctor hesitated.

“In a _wheelchair_. And then right back to bed. Until I say otherwise, he’s not to leave his bed for anything but the bathroom. Got it?”

Peter nodded, immediately. Tony only a moment later.

“Yes.”

“Good. His breakfast is coming.” He looked at Peter. “No strawberries and no latex, according to Tony, here. Anything else we need to know?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Eat your breakfast and get some rest. If he needs anything, Tony, call me.”

“Thanks, Robert.”

The doctor nodded, and left, and the nurse went with him, closing the door behind them. Tony smiled at Peter, and brushed his bangs back before leaning over to kiss his forehead and then his lips, tenderly.

“I’m so glad to see you sitting upright, honey. You had me so worried.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I’ve really been here five days?”

“Six, technically.”

“What’s going to happen to me?” the boy asked, unable to stop himself from worrying. “I can’t miss that much school. They’re going to hold me back, and what about the woman from the state? She must be looking for me and they’re going to put me in-“

“Shhh… honey, stop. You’re going to upset yourself and undo all the rest that you’ve been getting.” Tony shifted enough that he could put an arm around the boy, but didn’t cuddle against him. He was going to need his hands free to eat, after all. “CPS isn’t going to do anything to you. They know where you are, and they’re fine. We’ll worry about school, later. You’re smart enough to catch up, and between myself and the geniuses here, we can help you with anything you need. Understand?”

“Not really…”

He chuckled, and kissed him, again.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then trust me and don’t worry. Nothing is going to happen to you. You’re safe and you’re going to be fine. Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Happy birthday.”

Peter smiled, and Tony’s expression softened as his heart flip-flopped inside his chest at the sight.

“Thank you.”

“We’ll celebrate later.”

Another tap on the door and a woman rolled in a cart that held a tray with a few covered dishes.

“Hungry?” she asked, cheerfully, as she rolled it over to the bed.

“Yes.”

She smiled and handed the tray to Tony, who put it over Peter’s lap before uncovering the food. Eggs, sausages and toast with grape jelly on the side. A bottle of orange juice.

“I’ll come check on you later,” she told them both, and left them, closing the door behind her.

“It looks good,” Tony said, situating himself next to Peter, with an arm casually sliding behind him so he could touch him and not be in the way.

“Did _you_ eat?”

“Yes. Don’t let it get cold, okay?”

The sooner they put some weight back on him, the better.

Peter did what he was told, but he didn’t make it all the way through the meal. He’d been awake long enough to reassure himself that all was well with his world, and his body was ready to sleep, again, whether he agreed or not. In between the sausage and the toast, he found himself listing almost drunkenly against the billionaire’s warm, comforting presence, and before he made it to the eggs – which were runny and not his first priority, anyway – he was dozing.

Tony smiled, not at all concerned. He moved the tray out of the way and simply relaxed beside Peter, still holding him from behind, tucking his head against his shoulder so he was more comfortable. He craned his head around a little so he could kiss him, softly, and smiled when the boy's lips twitched, automatically, in response to the touch.

“I love you, honey.”


	39. 39

Tony woke him, gently, at lunchtime, easing him awake with a careful touch and soothing words. Peter sat himself up, willingly enough, and ate most of the meal put in front of him; soup with noodles and chicken, and half a chicken salad sandwich. Tony wasn’t the only one to sit with him, either, as he ate.

“Company is coming,” Stark warned him as he put the tray over his lap, brushing a kiss against his forehead as he did.

“Oh. Who?”

“Bruce and Natasha are going to eat with us,” he was told. Tony smiled, obviously amused by something, even though he didn’t mention what it was. “They think you need more company than just _me_ , now that you’re awake and more interesting than you were when you were just _sleeping_.”

Peter didn’t mind; he had spent time with both, before, and liked them. Even better, he was comfortable with both of them. And probably did a lousy job of hiding that he was excited that either of them wanted to be with him.

“ _Really_?”

The billionaire rolled his eyes, but he nodded.

“They should be here any-“ A knock on the door interrupted him, and Bruce’s head poked into the door, looking around. “Time.”

“He’s decent,” Banner said, looking back over his shoulder and opening the door, more. “Come on.”

Natasha was with him, and they were holding bags that were labeled as coming from a sandwich shop Peter had never heard of. The two walked over to the bed and Bruce claimed the only other chair in the room, leaving Romanoff to sit on the edge of the bed.

“How are you feeling?” she asked Peter as she parceled out sandwiches from the bag, handing one to Tony and Bruce before taking the last for herself. “You look better.”

“I’m okay,” Peter assured her. “A little tired.”

A _lot_ tired. But he didn’t need to tell her – and she could see it without him mentioning it.

“A lot of sleep will set you right,” Bruce told him. “And as much food as you can stuff down him, Tony. He’s way too thin.”

“We’re working on it,” Stark assured him with another smile.

Despite being tired, lunch was entertaining for Peter, and he forced himself to try to stay awake and enjoy it. Both Natasha and Bruce were good company, and they asked him all kinds of questions that hadn’t come up in Bruce’s lab, or while barbequing on the balcony of Tony’s apartment. Nothing so personal that Peter squirmed, or anything painful, but definitely things that plainly told the boy they were trying to get to know him better.

It was flattering and exciting – especially considering who they were – and he managed to keep himself awake through his soup and most of the sandwich before he just nodded off in the middle of a conversation about his better subjects at school.

Natasha looked at Stark, who shrugged, unconcerned.

“Robert warned me not to worry when that happens. He’s really weak, still, guys, and there’s no immediate cure. Just as much sleep as he can get, and someone to keep the nightmares at bay so he can rest.”

“Do you need a break?” Bruce asked.

“Not right now. Thanks.” The billionaire smiled. “I appreciate you hanging out with him like this. He was pretty excited when he heard you were coming.”

“Rhodey sent me to gather intel,” Bruce admitted. “For _tonight_.”

It was amusing to hear him speak like a spy, and Romanoff and Stark both smiled at that.

“Did you?”

“Yes. I’ll see you this evening.”

He left, and Natasha looked at Stark.

“I’m going, too, then.”

“You got _your_ intel, too?”

“I didn’t _need_ it,” she admitted. “I learned what I needed at your place the first night. But I _do_ need to get things set up.”

“If you need anything, just put it on a tab for me to handle.”

She snorted, gathering all their garbage and stuffing it back into the bag.

“I think he’s probably worth the bill. I’ll take care of it. Just make sure you get Cinderella here to his ball.”

“I will.”

The assassin left, taking Peter’s lunch tray, as well, and Tony debated whether he wanted to settle in beside Peter so that he could cuddle with him – and risk waking him up – or if he’d just watch him sleep from the chair he was sitting in. He decided to not risk waking him. Plenty of time to cuddle, later, after all. He wanted Peter rested for that night.

><<<><<<<<>>>><> 

“Peter?”

It wasn’t so hard to wake up. Not like before. Peter didn’t feel amazing, but he was young and enhanced, and even though he was sick and malnourished, the extra stamina was making a difference. Especially now that he was being fed and allowed to sleep.

He opened his eyes and saw Tony and the doctor standing by his bedside.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

Robert smiled.

“It’s fine, son. Sit up for me, will you?”

The boy did as he was told, and with Tony hovering over him, watching anxiously, the doctor checked Peter out, listening to his heart and lungs, especially, before asking him a few pointed questions about how he felt. Peter answered them, looking over the doctor’s shoulder at Tony, who would smile, softly, each time their eyes met.

God, he was adorable.

“Well?” Stark asked, when the examination wound down.

“You can have him for two hours. Then back into bed – unless he starts flagging before that.”

“Fair.” He looked at Peter as the doctor left the room, only to return in moments with a wheelchair. “Ready to go?”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. Let’s get you into your coach.”

They helped him out of the bed and into the wheelchair, and then – just to make sure – he was bundled in a blanket to keep him warm.

“I mean it, Tony. Two hours.”

“Come by and check on him,” Stark replied as he pushed Peter out of the room and they headed down a corridor.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked, again, looking around with interest.

It was the Avenger’s compound, after all, and he was excited to see more of it than just the white walls of the room he’d been in.

“You’ll see,” was the evasive answer. “Are you warm enough?”

“Yes, thanks.”

They came around another turn and entered a large open area. The lights were low, but Peter didn’t have any trouble seeing everything around it. It was a room, with a bar against one wall and several tables with chairs scattered throughout and a couple of sofas, pinball machines and a dartboard against the other wall. Also present was a giant flat screen TV on the wall.

None of it was being used at the moment, but suddenly the lights went on and several people stood up from behind the bar.

“Surprise!”

Peter smiled as he realized that he recognized many of them – and that the room was somewhat decorated with party favors of all sorts, and each of them proclaiming in one way or another that someone had just turned sixteen.

“What’s this?” he asked, turning to look over his shoulder at Tony, who was smiling at the surprise in his expression.

“We’re having a _baby shower_ ,” came the reply – automatically sarcastic, but he couldn’t help himself. He smiled to soften the words, and hugged him from behind – but didn’t kiss him, like he wanted to. “Happy birthday, honey,” he said, softly.


	40. 40

“It’s a birthday party?” Peter asked, flushing with a mixture of excitement and pleasure, as the others came out from behind the bar and the lights went on. “ _Really_?”

“Of course. You’re the only one having a birthday, today, and we had to use up the decorations.”

“Happy birthday, Peter,” Natasha told him, coming up and leaning over to kiss his cheek.

The boy’s blush deepened, amusing Tony. Yeah, he was more than happy in his bed, but Peter _clearly_ didn’t have any aversion to being made much of by a beautiful woman, did he?

“Thanks.”

“We have to feed you,” Tony told him, pushing the wheelchair over to one of the larger tables. “So you’re going to _eat_ , and meet some of the others, before we do cake and presents.”

“Presents?”

“Of course. It’s not a birthday without presents.”

“Listen to him, Peter,” Bruce said, overhearing the conversation as he and Rhodey walked over, as well, both already holding drinks. “You _have_ to have presents. It’s a scientific fact – I could write out a proof, if you need me to.”

Peter blushed, again, and Tony was touched by just how happy he looked, just then. The party was a great idea, and the others were being amazing. Natasha pulled Tony away from his spot beside the wheelchair.

“Go get his dinner, Tony,” she ordered. “I’ll make the introductions.”

Stark looked down at Peter, questioningly, but the boy was perfectly comfortable with Romanoff. Clearly the most dangerous woman in the world – _probably_ – had him firmly wrapped around her finger, and knew it.

“I’ll be back in a bit. No _booze_ for him.”

She snorted, and shooed him away, gesturing for the others to come and say hi to their guest of honor – and their excuse to have a party on a weeknight.

><><<<>> 

By the time Tony brought his dinner, Peter had met more Avengers and SHIELD agents than he’d have believed he ever would. The more well-known ones, like Steve Rogers and even Sam Wilson, and then the behind the scenes people, who didn’t tell him what their responsibilities were, save that they looked more like spies to the boy – based on his years of spy movies, but no actual practical experience.

He was also introduced to some of the other medical staff and an on-call surgeon, as well as the bartender and a couple of cooks.

When he’d eaten, Romanoff had whisked him away in his wheelchair and challenged him and Hawkeye to darts, and had unknowingly started an insane competition between the three of them that had all the others placing wagers on the outcome of the matches.

None of them actually knew he had any super-human skills – except Tony, of course – but they were learning. The boy’s hand-eye coordination was phenomenal, especially with the practice that it had taken him to learn to shoot webbing exactly where it needed to go to precipitate a proper swing, and he was as good at darts as Hawkeye and Natasha, both. And had _proven_ it, much to the encouragement of those who were betting on him.

Then Tony had come to reclaim him, telling everyone it was time for cake – which had been met with approval, as well.

The cake was enormous. Chocolate with chocolate frosting on one half, white cake and vanilla frosting on the other. Perfect for everyone. On it were sixteen candles, and written in frosting was Happy Birthday Peter with an Avenger’s A underneath it.

“That’s a nice touch,” Tony said, softly, to Romanoff, knowing she was the one responsible for it.

She smiled.

“Something tells me he’s going to be a somewhat permanent fixture around here, one way or another.”

The billionaire winked, and then borrowed a lighter from the bartender and lit the candles.

“Make a wish, Peter,” Steve said.

The boy’s smile was practically frozen on his face, but he nodded, closed his eyes for just a moment, and then blew out the candles – with a couple of tries. He was sick, after all.

“I’ll cut this and start dishing it up,” Sam said, taking the cake. “What flavor do you want, birthday boy?”

“Chocolate. Thank you.”

Suddenly, there was a small pile of gaily wrapped presents sitting on the table in front of him and one lone birthday card.

Peter opened the card, first, and saw that it was signed by all of them, rather than each of them getting him a separate one. He was amazed, and it showed in his expression. And he was _touched_ , and that showed, too. Tony followed the boy’s eyes as he read each individual message, some simply a greeting with a signature, others a little more personal and he smiled, softly, as Peter’s eyes watered just a little.

Finally, he looked up at the group watching him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Natasha told him. “Open your presents, so we can have cake.”

The boy picked up one from Happy, first, and found two open ended tickets for admission to Coney Island, which made him smile – and made Tony roll his eyes as the driver winked. Then he found a handsome chess set made of a combination of wood and marble from Natasha, who kissed him, exuberantly, when he thanked her.

Which made him blush and made the others laugh.

The presents were fun.

The Avengers didn’t know him well – some only had the information that Bruce and Natasha had garnered from their questioning at lunch and had hurried to buy gifts that he might like; books, games, a box of various science experiments from Bruce, who promised that when they did them they would add a little more intricacy to them to make them less juvenile and a lot more interesting. Considering the components that he had available to him in his lab at the tower, Peter knew it would be a lot of fun.

All were sincere, though, and Peter knew it. And appreciated it.

He thanked them, again and again, and they assured him that he was welcomed. Then they fed him cake and ice cream before Robert nudged Tony and reminded him that he was over the two hour time restraint and it was time to get Peter back into his bed.

Everyone said goodnight to him, and with his present piled into his lap and his heart singing happily in his chest, Peter was pushed back to his little medical room by Tony – who assured the doctor and his staff that he could handle getting Peter to bed.

“Thank you,” the boy said, his eyes bright with pleasure, as Stark piled the presents onto the rolling table that was situated by his bed.

“Did you have a good time?” Tony asked him, unnecessarily.

It was written all over his face.

“Yes.”

When Stark put an arm around the boy to help him out of the chair and into the bed, Peter held him, tightly, burying his face against the older man’s shoulder. Tony groaned, softly, and hugged him close, glad that he’d closed and locked the door behind them. Peter wasn’t going to be up to anything physical anytime soon, but Tony was fine with simply holding him for as long as he wanted him to, as well.

“God, I love you, honey,” he murmured into his ear, pressing a series of tender kisses against the porcelain cheek since it was all he could reach with Peter tucked against him the way he was. “My beautiful boy. So amazing. So brave. So sexy…”

Peter clung to him, soaking up the love and the attention that Tony was giving him, shaking a little with emotions that he couldn’t suppress, just then.

“I love you, too, Tony,” he whispered into his neck, finally, as he pulled away.

Stark kissed him, properly, then, and couldn’t help when his hands slid down and cupped the boy’s ass, pulling him close for a moment before he gently put him to bed and drew the covers over him, warmly.

“You didn’t open my present,” he reminded Peter.

“You got me a present? I thought the _party_ was from you.”

“Natasha did most of the work organizing the party,” Tony admitted, kissing him, again, licking his tongue along the boy’s lower lip. “I would have had a magician – or a clown. So it’s _probably_ better that she did it.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, which he handed to Peter.

“Wow…”

It was a watch. Black and gleaming, with an analogue face, but several buttons that told the boy there was much more to it than what met the eye. The band was black metal as well, but Peter saw it was engraved with his name. The date. And an Avenger’s A.

“Like it?”

“I _love_ it.”

“It has a built-in communications feature,” Tony told him. “Which I will show you how to use, _later_. But there’s a direct line to me.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at Peter’s wrist and the boy offered him his hand, watching as the billionaire put the watch on and secured the band. “Now… if you _ever_ need me, I’m a call away. And I’ll never be too busy. Got it?”

Peter nodded, silently, and Tony cradled him in his arms, holding him and whispering sweet nothings into his ear until the excitement of the party and the sugar in the cake were finally overwhelmed by the exhaustion that was always on the periphery and Peter fell asleep in his arms.

Then he just held him because he _wanted_ to.


	41. 41

“I’ll be back by four.”

Romanoff nodded, tolerantly. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that.

“Got it.”

“He needs to eat _all_ of his lunch.”

“Yes, Robert has told us.”

“I’m just _saying_. He gets this tired look on his face and wants to sleep instead, and that’s not _okay_. You have to make him eat.”

Steve rolled his eyes, amused, and looked over at Natasha, who had folded her arms over her breasts, but was clearly just as entertained by Tony’s hesitation to leave.

“Okay.”

“No strawberries, and no-“

“ _Latex_ ,” Bruce finished. “Yes, we _know_.”

“Watch for the nightmares.”

“We will.”

“I’m just a phone call away if he needs _anything_ …”

“We _know_ , Tony. _Go_.”

“Yeah.” Stark shrugged and turned to Happy, who was leaning against the door of Peter’s room, watching the billionaire give the Avengers instructions for how to watch Peter sleep. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

It was the fifth day after Peter’s birthday party, and as much as he didn’t want to, Tony needed to go to the tower. Being at the compound and staying close to Peter had put him behind as far as the few important aspects of the company that he needed to be there for – namely _meetings_ – and he’d put them off as long as he could. There was a threat of mutiny – Pepper had threatened to have his office painted orange if he missed the meetings and he believed her. So he was leaving Peter in the hands of the others.

They watched him leave with Happy, and Steve grinned and looked over at Peter, who was asleep and blissfully unaware of the fuss that Tony had made.

“Who wants first watch?”

“He probably doesn’t need anyone actually _with_ him,” Bruce said. “I mean, he’s been sleeping pretty well, right?”

“I’d say three nightmares in five days doesn’t count as _soundly_ ,” Steve said, watching as Romanoff nodded her agreement. “Besides, after that nervous poppa scene? We’re definitely going to sit on him and make sure nothing happens.”

“I’ll watch him, first,” Natasha told them. “I can use the time to set up the training schedules that work best for me, and then when you’re watching him, Steve, you can ratify them.”

“Sounds good. Need anything?”

“Just a cup of coffee.”

><>><<<<>< 

_“You_ have _to come with us, son.”_

_The voice was his counselor, the expression was serious._

_“it’s for your own good.”_

_This was the CPS woman – Miller, his mind supplied._

_Peter stepped back, feeling the first stirrings of anxiety as he looked at the group that was standing in front of him. Teachers, office staff and the CPS people – only this time there were also soldiers gathering around him, as well, looking to block him in. To hold him where he was._

_“No. I don’t want go with you. I want to stay here. Please?”_

_“There’s no one here for you. We can take care of you.”_

_“You don’t have a choice. If you don’t come with us you’ll be alone.”_

_“I don’t want to be alone…” he whispered. “I’m so tired. Please…”_

_“You’re fine, here, Peter,” a soft, feminine voice assured him._

_“I’m scared… they want to take me.”_

_The crowd of people surged forward, toward him, and the boy trembled, trying to stand his ground._

_“Come with us. Now.”_

_“No. Please…_ Tony _…”_

_“You’re okay, Peter. It’s alright.”_

_Hands were touching him, trying to calm him, and he heard a deeper voice joining in with the first – but at the same time the soldiers were pulling guns and he felt a stabbing pain along his thigh when one of them shot him._

_“No!”_

_The panic had hold of him, now, and he knew it. He tried to force it down. He tried to breathe, but he couldn’t. The fear surged up as the CPS woman reached for him, and he bolted with a terrified cry._

>><><><>>><< 

“So, the Osawa merger is going to be a done deal,” Pepper said, looking at the group seated around the table and then stopping at Tony. “We just need your _signature_.”

“You write my signature better than I do,” he reminded her, blandly. “Go for it, I’m on board with the merger.”

He really wanted that new version of Nanotech, after all, and she knew it. Not that his own wasn’t just as good, but the more options that he had for his suit, the happier he was. And-

“Mr. Stark?” They all looked over at the woman at the glass door to the conference room. “Nick Fury is on the phone for you.”

He frowned and came to his feet, looking at Pepper.

“Do whatever you need to do,” he told her, leaving the room and going to his office, which was conveniently close by. He walked into the door. “Connect Fury, FRIDAY.”

_“Tony?”_

“Yeah?”

_“We need you back here._ Now _.”_

So, the world was ending, or something happened with _Peter_. Tony went for his suit, hoping the world was ending.

“I’m on my way.”

><><><<<>>> 

It was Bruce that met Tony at the entrance to the compound when the Ironman suit landed after a very short flight. The suit disengaged and ejected Tony, who emerged, still dressed in the expensive tailored suit he’d been wearing in the meeting.

“What’s going on?”

“Peter had a nightmare – Robert says it was a panic attack.”

“Is he hurt?”

They were already heading inside, but Bruce didn’t lead him to the infirmary, they were going the other direction and heading toward one of the large staging areas. A small crowd was gathered in a corner, and made way for the billionaire when they saw him, revealing Natasha on the floor with a sobbing Peter clinging to her as if to a lifeline. Steve was crouched down beside them, his lip bleeding and his eye blacked. Sam and Rhodey were both standing close by, looking equally battered, and Nick Fury was standing to the side, watching everything with the same intensity that he did everything.

Dr. Anderson was standing close at hand, as well, and Stark saw a syringe in his hand.

Tony dropped to the floor on the other side of the boy, looking at Natasha, who had a slight cut above her eye that had left a trickle of blood, now smeared.

“Peter?”

The boy hadn’t noticed his approach, but when Tony reached for him, he threw himself into his arms, wrapping tightly against him.

“I’m _sorry_ …”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, holding him tightly. “Shh…” He looked at Natasha. “You okay?”

She nodded with a slight smile.

“Yeah. He got in a lucky shot, is all.”

“And not just _one_ ,” Steve said, chagrined.

“What happened?” Tony asked – not Peter, who was still wrapped up in his own misery and shaking so hard that Tony was surprised he wasn’t shaking, too.

"He went back to sleep after eating lunch, and had a nightmare," Bruce said.

“ _Panic attack_ ,” Robert told him. “From everything they’ve described to me, that’s what it had to be.” He gestured at the boy. “This isn’t the result of a nightmare.”

“I’m sorry…” Peter repeated, his face buried in Tony's expensive shirt. “Please…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Stark assured him, as Natasha rested her hand on the boy’s shoulder, too.

“You didn’t mention panic attacks,” the doctor said.

“He’s only had one with me,” Tony said. “I didn’t even think…” he looked at the others. “Anyone hurt?”

He wasn’t worried about the bruises. That was nothing serious.

“No,” Steve assured him – and Peter. He cocked an eyebrow. “You went on for an hour about how he’s allergic to strawberries and didn’t think we _might_ need to know that he can run up walls?”

“Not to mention he’s pretty freaking _strong_ ,” Sam added.

“Yeah.” Tony looked down at the boy in his arms, and was relieved to see that his trembling was subsiding – as were the sobs. “It wasn’t really my place to tell, but I probably should have anyway.”

He’d given his word, though.

“Let’s see if we can get him back into bed,” the doctor told them, his voice as calm as always. This wasn’t even the weirdest thing he’d seen this week, even. It was the _Avengers_ , after all. “Then we’ll get everyone bandaged up and have a talk.”

“Yeah. Good idea.”


	42. 42

It turned out that they couldn’t get him back into his bed.

That was literally the last place Peter wanted to be, just then. When Tony suggested Peter would be more comfortable in his room, Peter trembled and pleaded with him not to make him go back to sleep. None of them were immune to the heart-rending sobs – Tony especially – and they ended up in a small conference room just off the corridor. Tony settled on a small sofa, with Peter still clinging to him, while Natasha took the other side to brace the boy protectively between them. The others took seats nearby, all watching as the billionaire soothed Peter back into a semblance of relative calm before turning his attention to them.

“You _saw_ him walk up a wall?” he asked, looking at Steve.

“Yeah. I was trying to get him back into bed. Sam stepped in front of him to cut off his break for it, and he dodged and went up the wall.”

“Damn.”

“You didn’t know he could do it?” Bruce asked.

“He _told_ me that he could,” Tony said. “But I’ve never seen it. He’s been hurt. I didn’t want to ask for a demonstration until his leg was healed.”

“There’s video,” Fury told him.

“I’ll check it out, later. What _happened_?”

“He started mumbling in his sleep,” Romanoff told him, her hand brushing Peter’s hair, lightly, causing the boy to open his eyes and look over at her, wordlessly. “I knew he was having a bad dream, and tried to calm him down. But it became worse, and Steve and I both tried to tell him he was fine. Then he just lurched out of the bed and ran.”

“He put up a hell of a fight when we cornered him,” Rhodey said. “We weren’t trying to _hurt_ him; just keep him from going anywhere that he might hurt _himself_. You know how it feels…”

“Yes. There wasn’t anything you could have done, really. I know how unreasonable I am when I get stuck in a panic attack.”

“So how does he do it?” Bruce asked, looking at Peter, whose face was still against Tony’s side, the billionaire’s arm around him, supporting him. “Was he born that way?”

Stark looked down at Peter, brushing his hand against his head, too. Like Natasha, he was just trying to keep him calm. Peter looked up at him, sensing his scrutiny.

“It’s _your_ story,” he said to the boy. “You tell them.”

Peter looked at the Avengers sitting in front of him, all watching him, expectantly, their faces interested – and bruised, because of him. He felt Tony’s hand move to the small of his back, silently supporting him, but telling him, also, that he needed to do this.

“I was on a field trip. At the end of the school year. We were checking out some labs where they were doing some radiation experiments…”

There wasn’t a sound in the room while the boy told them what happened. His voice was barely a whisper, sometimes, especially when he reached the part where he’d lost his aunt and uncle. And that he knew he was responsible, although Tony had told him that he couldn’t count himself at fault for what others did.

“I know better, though,” he said, softly, worn down from the panic attack and now the emotional retelling of his story. “If I can stop something bad from happening, then it’s my responsibility to – and I’ve been trying to make up for it…”

Steve shook his head, looking at Tony and understanding a lot better, now, just why Stark connected with the boy so completely.

“I have to agree with Tony on this one, Pete,” Rogers told the boy, gently. “You can do what you can do to try and stop evil in the world, but you can’t take responsibility for it. That’s on the ones who do the evil in the first place.”

“That’s what _I_ told him,” Stark said, giving Peter a one-armed hug. “See? It’s not just me talking out of my-“ He smiled, knowing Rogers wouldn't appreciate the language. “ _Steve_ agrees with me, so you know it must be right. Makes sense?”

“It made sense when you said it the first time,” Peter replied. “It doesn’t make it easier to believe. I’m sorry I freaked out on you guys.”

“I am, too,” Sam told him, smiling. “Look at my _pretty_ face. Now all the honeys will have-“

“Did you just say _honeys_?” Romanoff interrupted.

“Chicks? Babes? _Hot mamas_?”

Peter smiled, well aware that they were making an effort to put him at ease, and it was working.

Tony smiled, too.

“Let’s get you back to your room, okay?” he told the boy. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re not being corrupted by these guys, completely. We'll let them wear you down, a little bit at a time.”

“Okay.” Peter reached for Natasha’s hand and she took it with a slight smile, squeezing it, briefly, before letting him go.

“I’ll come check on you later, baby,” she told him. “We’ll try out the chess board.”

Tony and Peter left, with the billionaire’s arm around the boy, still, and they all watched him go and then broke up, as well, since they had all been busy before Peter’s panic had pulled them away from what they’d been doing.

“Am I the only one not getting a father/son vibe from those two?” Rhodey asked as he, Steve and Natasha walked out of the room, heading back toward the training rooms.

“ _I_ think they’re good for each other,” Romanoff said.

Steve nodded.

“Peter definitely brings out Tony’s soft side, doesn’t he? I didn’t even know he really _had_ one, to be honest.”

“He’s _sixteen_ ,” Rhodey said. “That’s pretty young. As much as I love Tony, how do we know that he isn’t… you know… _forcing_ him into… things?”

“The kid just beat up all the Avengers and can walk up walls,” Romanoff pointed out. “If there’s more going on between him and Tony than what they’re sharing, then it isn’t something he’s being forced into. Which means it’s none of our business.”

Steve obviously agreed.

Rhodey shrugged, but the bruises on his face – and the lack of them on _Tony Stark’s_ – proved Natasha’s point. Besides, he’d known Tony longer than all of them, and _he’d_ never seen the soft side, either. It was nice.

“I suppose.”

><<>>>><<< 

“How do you feel?” Stark asked as he guided Peter into the room and back to his bed.

“Stupid.”

“You shouldn’t,” Tony told him, smiling and leaning over to pull the blankets back. Someone had obviously been in to make the bed, since they were tightly tucked in and didn’t look like they’d been discarded during a nightmare. “You should feel relieved. They all know your story, now. No secrets, honey. Even better; they know what you’re capable of. Now they can help you learn how to use your talents, better. Like we discussed before.”

Peter shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“What brought on the panic attack?” Tony asked, brushing his hand along the boy’s forehead. He was going to have to get him out for a haircut, and soon. “Do you remember?”

“They were trying to take me away,” Peter told him, leaning forward, silently asking to be held.

Tony complied, and sat on the edge of the bed, gathering him into his arms, and tucking his head under his chin.

_“Who?”_

“My counselor. The CPS people, and some soldiers.”

“Ah. Time for a little communication, then…” he murmured, pressing a kiss against Peter’s ear. “I was going to wait for you to be a little better, but if you’re that worried about it, then we should discuss things. Yeah?”

“What things?” Peter asked him.

“You. And your future. Where we’re at right now…”

“What do you mean?”

“The state knows about you, now, honey. They know about you being on your own.”

“I know.”

“They want what’s best for you, but they don’t know what that _is_ , and you weren’t well enough, really, to have a say in things – and I promised you that you would, remember?”

“Yes.”

“So, for right now, I had a judge give me temporary custody of you.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“That means no one is going to make you do anything that you don’t want to do, because they have to go through _me_ , first. This will give you a chance to get well, and my people a chance to gather all your options and lay them out for you, so when you’re ready, we can see what will be best for you.”

Peter was silent, obviously thinking that through. Then his hold on Tony tightened.

“What about us?”

“Still has to be a _secret_ , I’m sorry to say. We’re getting _closer_ , though,” he added, tenderly. “You're sixteen, now.”

“But you still _love_ me? Even though I’ve caused so much trouble?”

“More than ever,” Tony confirmed. “You can’t make me _stop_ loving you, Peter. Even if you didn’t want to be with me. Didn’t want to love me back. I’d still love you.”

The boy sniffed, and the billionaire hugged him, tightly.

“Don’t cry, honey. It’s all going to work out for us. You’re so beautiful… so perfect for me. So strong and so brave.”

He was doing it, again, Peter realized, with a gentle thrill, as he buried his face into Tony's shirt and listened to him croon praises to him. Telling him how amazing he was when Peter felt like he was anything but any of those things. Reminding him just how much he loved him, and making him wish that he didn’t feel so weak, just then, or so tired. And that they were back in Tony’s apartment where they could freely hold each other, and Peter could prove to Tony just how great _he_ was, too.

“I love you, too, Tony,” Peter assured him, closing his eyes.

“Good. Because I need you.”


	43. 43

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay? I could stay.”

Peter smiled, and shook his head.

“No. I mean, yeah. I’m okay. You’re coming back _here_ , though, right? Not staying at your apartment?”

“I’ll be back sometime around four. Steve’s going to be around all day, he said – and Bruce. Natasha’s going to be gone with some of the others. If you need anything, though, and you can’t find one of them, I’m only a call away.”

He reached for the hand that wore the watch that he’d been given.

“I’ll be fine. No repeat of yesterday, I promise.”

He was out of bed – for a little while, anyway. And feeling a lot less stressed for having had the talk with the Avengers – _and_ the one that he’d had with Tony.

Peter was actually dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, with a hooded sweatshirt over that – to ward of any chill, since he was still underweight and susceptible to being cold. He had already eaten breakfast – with Tony, who had double-checked with him that he wasn’t going to feel abandoned if he went to the tower for the day. The boy had plenty to keep him occupied, and had several Avengers to keep him company, as well.

The billionaire nodded and kissed him, softly, and then a little more urgently when Peter’s lips parted for his tongue. He chuckled at just how quickly he escalated what had been intended as a simple goodbye kiss, and pulled himself away, reluctantly.

“Walk me out?”

“Can I?”

“You’re not a prisoner, here, honey,” Tony assured him as they headed for the door and then along the corridor that led toward one of the exits. “Nick has already made sure to inform anyone who isn’t already aware of who you are that you’re cleared to look around. Stay away from any place that’s marked authorized personnel only – for now, anyway – but aside from that, look around and check the place out. Don’t wander off, though, okay? I don’t want to have to send Natasha and Steve out to find you, again.”

His hand slid to the small of Peter’s back, under the sweatshirt, caressing him.

“Okay.”

They were silent as they walked out into the gray morning. There was a promise of rain in the air, but Peter wasn’t concerned, now. If he didn’t want to be rained on, he could go inside.

“Peter!” Happy smiled a greeting to the boy as he opened the car door for Tony.

The boy grinned in reply, genuinely cheered to see him.

“Hi, Happy.”

“You doing alright? Need anything?”

“No. I’m good, I think.”

“How’s the leg?”

“A little bit of an ache, but not bad.”

“You look good. Eat something, though,” the driver told him, closing the door. “You’re too thin.”

“I will. Drive safe.”

Happy winked down at him, and moved to get into the car. Peter watched it drive off, and then turned to look at the building that he was standing in front of, feeling a thrill of excitement go through him. He was at the Avengers facility, and had all day to explore it, if he wanted to. Which he _did_ , of course.

He headed for the door and was surprised to see waiting for him, leaning against the door frame. Captain America smiled a cheerful good morning to him as he neared.

“Are they gone, then?”

“Yes.”

“How do you feel?”

“Pretty good.”

“Good. I thought I’d give you a tour of the place, this morning,” he offered. “Then you can do whatever you want – but you’ll at least know your way around. What do you say?”

Amazed that he’d want to spend any time with him – especially considering the black eye and other bruising Peter had given him the day before – Peter smiled, feeling excited at the company and who it was.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

“We might borrow you later,” Rogers said, closing the door behind them as they headed inside. “Just so you know.”

“Oh? Why?”

“I lost my frisbee up on the roof a few days ago, and your skill set makes you the perfect guy to go up and get it down for me.”

Peter chuckled, and felt Steve put his hand on his back, good-naturedly.

“I could do that.”

“Good. Let me show you the lounge and the conference rooms, first. Then you’ll know where to go for lunch, later, if I’m not around and you can’t find anyone else.”

><<><<<>>> 

“What are you doing?”

Peter looked up from the book and the paper that he had in front of him on the table and saw that Bruce Banner was standing in front of him.

“Schoolwork.”

“Yeah?” Immediately interested, he came around to the other side of the table, looking over the boy’s shoulder. “Chemistry?”

Peter nodded.

“I’m pretty behind, so I thought I’d get some of it done.”

He’d spent most of the morning with Steve, who had pretty much taken him all over the compound. Peter had seen things he was sure weren’t included in any regular tours – if they gave them to the general public. He’d been to the commissary, the labs, the control room, the staging areas, the Quinjet hangar and even the drilling grounds. Steve had even shown the boy where the personal quarters were for all of the Avengers and staff who lived there full time, and those few – like Tony – who had quarters there, but didn’t always use them.

They’d had lunch with Rhodey and Sam, who had joked with Peter, treating like a welcomed guest, if not an equal, and reminding him that if he needed anything they only had to ask. Then everyone had left him to his own devices, assuming (correctly) that he was close to being overwhelmed by so much contact with so many spectacular figures, and Peter had wandered back to his little room in the infirmary and had taken a much-needed nap.

Tony had checked in with him a couple of times – using the communication device on the new watch (which had excited Peter, of course) – but the boy had assured him that he was fine and everyone was treating him well, and yes, he’d eaten lunch and had had plenty of rest.

Now, though, he had time before he expected Tony back, and the lounge was quiet, so he thought that since Happy had delivered his backpack to him when he’d come to pick up Tony, he might as well take advantage of that time and take care of things that he needed to do.

“Can I help?” Bruce offered, pointing at one of the equations that Peter had copied down from the book. “You have that inverted, by the way. Unless you did it on _purpose_?”

“No. I didn’t notice. Thanks.”

Peter grinned, as the brilliant scientist pulled up a chair and settled next to him to help him with his homework. It was just a crazy topper to a crazy morning and afternoon, and he couldn’t help the way he trembled just a little, barely able to stop wriggling in excitement as the little fanboy inside his soul shouted in glee at being so close up with all the Avengers.

><><><<<>> 

Tony hesitated at the entrance to the lounge, immediately looking for Peter, and smiling when he found him. The smile grew when he saw that he was sitting with Bruce, who was about as animated as he could remember his friend being. They were looking at a textbook as near as Tony could tell, and he assumed, correctly, that they were working on Peter’s schoolwork.

He sighed, a little tired from his day, and happy to be done. It was a longer day, driving out to the compound to be with Peter, instead of going to the apartment, but seeing how happy he looked, it made him glad that he was there – just then – instead of just sitting in the apartment waiting for Tony to come home.

He walked over to the table and both looked up as he neared, and the billionaire’s heart flip-flopped like it always did when he caught sight of that happy face. Especially when those eyes lit up, and he knew it was in reaction to seeing him.

“Hey, guys,” he said by way of greeting. “Tell me that’s homework?”

Peter nodded.

“Bruce and I got all my chemistry done,” he reported.

“I saved the _English_ for you, though,” Banner told him, leaning back in his chair. “I know how much you love gerunds.”

Stark rolled his eyes, amused.

“You're too kind.” He turned to Peter. “Did you have a good day?”

The boy nodded.

“It was great.”

“I’m going to go get a drink,” Bruce said, deciding to give them some time alone so Tony could reassure himself that the boy was doing fine. “You got him, Tony?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” Peter said, gathering up his textbook and his notes.

“You’re welcome. I had fun.”

He had, too. Peter was bright, and interesting – and he listened, which was always nice.

“Come keep me company while I change?” Tony asked, eager to get out of a suit and into something more comfortable.

“Yeah, of course.” They got up and headed for the lounge entrance. “How was _your_ day?”

“Long. Four meetings and then I finally escaped long enough to hit my workroom for a while before I had a couple of calls I couldn’t get out of making.”

“Did you eat lunch?”

“Yes.”

“A _good_ one?” Peter pressed, thinking that he looked tired. “Not just a sandwich, or something?”

Tony regaled him with a description of his lunch, relieved that he’d actually eaten since sometimes he forgot to do so. He was going on about the pie that he’d had for dessert when they reached Stark’s quarters and he ushered him in and closed the door behind them with a sigh.

“Tired?”

He nodded.

“A little.” Peter followed him into his bedroom and sat down on the bed while Tony undressed, hanging his suit up, neatly before pulling jeans and a long-sleeved shirt from a dresser. “It was a long day.”

“I missed you,” the boy told him, honestly.

Stark smiled and walked over to the bed, parting Peter’s knees and stepping into the space between them.

“I missed you, too, honey.”

Peter leaned forward, pressing his face into the front of Tony’s boxers, nuzzling him, gently, and Tony felt himself twitch in almost immediate response to the contact. The boy felt it, too, and looked up at him, bringing his hands to the older man’s hips.

“Can we…?”

Tony slid his fingers through Peter’s hair, feeling his heart start to beat a little faster.

“Are you up to it?” he asked. “Not too tired?”

“No.”

He slid Tony’s boxers down, freeing his still mostly flaccid penis, and pressed a gentle kiss against the head, his tongue coming out to taste him.

“Oh, that’s nice, Peter,” Tony purred, watching as the boy started to slide his tongue along him, leaving wet trails that were definitely getting his attention. “Don’t stop, honey.”

Peter drew him into his mouth, and Tony slowly pressed his hips forward and back, closing his eyes as Peter’s lips tightened around him and created suction that had him aroused in very little time. The boy made an approving sound and began working his cock in earnest, sucking one moment, and then licking the next, making slurping noises that left Tony gasping as he slowly began to build to his climax. It didn’t take too long, of course – he’d been without Peter’s touch for way too many days.

The boy fondled his testicles, rolling them in his hand one at a time and then tugging on them as he strove to put as much of Tony into his mouth as he could, and the billionaire grunted and brought both hands to Peter’s head, holding him in place as he came, an almost urgent load of cum that the boy swallowed as eagerly as Tony fed it to him.

“Oh, Peter,” Tony sighed, watching as the boy sucked all of his deflating cock into his mouth, now, and pressed his nose against Tony’s pubic bone, and stroking his hair, absently, as Peter licked him clean, searching for anything that he might have missed. “That was perfect. _You're_ so perfect.”

Peter smiled, his hand replacing his mouth, as he fondled Tony, gently.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t mind letting me do that…”

The billionaire chuckled, pulling himself out of Peter’s hand, carefully and walking over to close his door, securely, and lock it. Just in case. His quarters were private, and guarded by FRIDAY, even at the compound, but the last thing he wanted as he walked back to the bed – and to Peter – was to be interrupted.

“You’re welcomed to me anytime,” he assured him, reaching for the boy’s shirt and kissing him. “But first, I get to return the favor.”

Peter allowed him to push him backward onto the bed and moaned into the kiss before pulling away long enough to pull his sweatshirt and shirt off.

“Whatever you want, Tony.”

“Anything?”

“M-hmmm…”

Stark gathered him into his arms and slid his hand down to the button of Peter’s jeans.

“That’s exactly what I want to hear, honey.”

And exactly what he wanted to come home to every day.


	44. 44

They had dinner in the lounge.

Natasha and Bruce were already there when Tony and Peter joined them, and as the four of them made their way through a meal that was decent – but not as amazing as Tony’s cooking, Peter decided – Romanoff told them about where she’d been and what she’d done that day and was planning for the next. It made Peter proud that she was telling him, acting like he was part of the team and willing to allow him into what was obviously a very small group.

Then, as they lingered over dessert – which was simply ice cream – she asked him about his day, and he told her about exploring the compound with Steve and then having lunch, and then how Bruce had helped him with his homework before Tony had returned.

“Did Steve show you everything?” she asked, amused by how excited he was about something that was so mundane to her.

“Probably not _everything_ ,” he admitted. “But a lot.”

She cocked her head, able to read him pretty well. Of course, she read _everyone_ pretty well, really.

“What were you hoping to see that you _didn’t_?” she asked.

The boy blushed.

“I was just wondering where you guys keep the Hulk.”

“What?”

“It’s _okay_. I mean, I wasn’t going to go and _gawk_ , or anything – although I _did_ want to see him. Or _meet_ him? Is he… I mean… does… do you guys hang out with him? Or is he just in a cage, somewhere until he needs to come help with something?”

Tony coughed, choking on his ice cream, suddenly, and purposely not looking at Bruce, who was staring at Peter. Then he turned and looked at Tony.

“He doesn’t know?”

“How _would_ he?” the billionaire asked. “I didn’t tell him.”

“Tell me _what_?” Peter asked, wondering if he’d offended someone – but not sure how.

Bruce hesitated, but fair was fair; Peter had told them his secret, the scientist would share his.

“ _I’m_ the Hulk.”

“What?”

“The Hulk,” Bruce repeated. “That’s _me_.”

“No. I mean the _big green guy_. You know. Muscles and torn clothing?”

Romanoff snorted, amused. Tony managed to contain himself a little better, but his eyes were also amused when he looked at Peter.

“Bruce _is_ the green guy, Peter,” Stark told him. “Sometimes.”

“ _Really_?” he hesitated, wondering if they were teasing him, somehow, but uncertain. “How does that work?”

“Lab accident gone wrong,” Banner explained. “I was hit by some crazy high-band gamma rays. Now, most of the time I’m me… sometimes, when I _need_ to be, I’m the other guy.”

“You’re the Hulk?” Peter repeated, dubiously.

“Yup.”

“The Hulk spent the day helping me with my chemistry homework?”

“No,” Bruce corrected. “Bruce Banner did. The Hulk doesn’t know diddly about chemistry.”

“I think he knows more than he lets on,” Romanoff said, giving Banner a coy look.

Tony rolled his eyes and the obvious attraction between the two.

“Don’t confuse him, guys. Or _me_ , for that matter.” The billionaire turned to Peter. “Right now, when he’s calm and cool, Bruce is _himself_. Bruce Banner, _genius scientist_.”

“Thank you, Tony.”

“Get him _mad_ , though, and the gamma cells take over, and then he gets big, turns green and is mostly uncontrollable. The Hulk. Two individuals, two different psyches and a crazy manipulation of cellular structure.”

The boy looked at Bruce.

“Really?”

“Yeah. “

“That’s why you don’t golf?”

Banner frowned.

“What?”

“Oh. I asked Tony if you were a golfer – because you’re a _do-_ never mind, it’s _dumb_. Wow…”

Now it was Bruce’s turn to blush, just a little, and Natasha smiled, amused at both reactions.

“Wanna touch him?”

“ _Can_ I?”

“Sure, _I_ do.”

Peter reached out and poked Bruce with a finger, and the scientist made a sudden roaring sound that startled the boy, and then made him laugh when he realized what he’d done. Bruce grinned, making Natasha and Tony both smile, as well.

“So… um… how mad do you _need_ to be?”

“Used to be, it didn’t take much,” Bruce admitted. “Now I have a lot more control over it.”

“Otherwise we wouldn’t be able to let him anywhere near Tony,” Natasha added, making Peter look over at Stark, who shrugged, innocently.

“Believe me, he has it well under control, Peter,” Tony told him.

“And when you’re…”

“ _The other guy_ ,” Bruce supplied.

“Yeah. _Him_. When you’re the other guy, do you know what he’s doing? Do you remember?”

“No. Not usually. We’re separate that way. I usually have to ask – or watch security footage, if there is any.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“ _Wow_ …”

Peter blushed, realizing that he was staring, but Bruce didn’t mind. The scientist recognized the questions being asked were out of curiosity, and he already knew from spending time with him that afternoon – and before in his lab with Tony in the tower – that Peter was analytical like every good genius should be.

“I’ve done some self-experimentation videos,” Bruce said. “If you’re interested, you can check them out. It shows the change, and everything. I even recorded brainwaves and neuron rhythms.”

“Thanks.”

“Or, we can take you golfing and wait for it to happen on the 3rd hole, par five,” Tony added.

“Probably not a good idea,” Banner pointed out.

The boy smiled, still clearly interested, but Stark was ready to usher him back to bed, unwilling to allow him to be on his feet too much and undo the good that had been done so far with him.

“I think that’ll wait for another day,” he said. “Let’s get you back to bed. You have all day tomorrow to gawk at Bruce.”

“I’m going to be at the tower, tomorrow,” the scientist corrected. “Working on my new gamma project.”

“Then you can gawk at _Natasha_ ,” Tony told the boy, standing up, and brushing his back, lightly. “Come on.”

Peter didn’t argue, since he was ready to call it a night.

“I’ll see you guys,” he said to both of them, still bemused and amazed at the revelation about Bruce.

They both told him goodnight, and with Tony beside him, a hand causally resting on the small of his back, they left the lounge.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Stark said, softly, as they walked the corridors.

“Amazing, really, yeah. Have _you_ seen him change?”

“Couple of times. Makes me glad to be in my suit, believe me.”

Peter didn’t know the compound well, yet, but he did recognize that they weren’t heading back to the infirmary.

“Where are we going?” he asked, curiously.

“I’m going to put you to bed.”

“My room is that way, though.”

Stark smiled.

“I’m going to put you to _my_ bed,” he said, softly.

“Oh.” Peter hesitated. “Is it alright?”

“Absolutely. I spoke with Robert about putting you in temporary quarters since you’re doing so much better – you certainly don’t belong in the infirmary, any longer. He signed off on it, as long as we make certain that you get plenty of sleep – so we _will_. But I want you to be sleeping in my arms.”

The boy felt a thrill go through him at the thought. It had been so long. At least, to him, it seemed like it had been.

“You have to work, tomorrow?”

“Yes. So, I’ll be gone all day. But it’s _Friday_. Why don’t I have Happy bring you to the apartment tomorrow afternoon, sometime, and I can have you to myself this weekend?”

“I’d like that,” Peter said.

“So will I, honey,” Stark agreed. “I’ll make sure the others know so no one thinks you’ve wandered off.”

They reached Tony’s quarters and he guided the boy into the main room, closing the door behind them with a solid click. Then he put his arms around Peter, holding him close and pressing his face into the boy’s neck, eliciting a soft moan.

“I want you inside me, Tony…” Peter whispered.

“Which is where I want to be,” he assured him. “But not _tonight_. We’re going to sleep, so you are rested tomorrow and Robert says you’re good to come spend the weekend in the city with me.”

“Awww… _Once_?”

“No.” He smiled at the way Peter pouted, and he dipped his head to kiss him, lightly. The boy had been sucked off twice before dinner – he wasn’t going to explode with need or want. “Do as I _say_ , Peter. Believe me, I’ll make it up to you, later.”

“Fine.”

><<<><>> 

“Tony?”

Peter was naked, his belly pressed against Stark’s, with the billionaire’s arms around him, both of them hard and throbbing, but true to his word, Tony wasn’t doing anything about either of them, despite the fact that Peter was squirming, just a little, with want. Stark had his head on the pillows, eyes closed and enjoying having the boy so close.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Tell me you love me…”

Stark opened his eyes, meeting Peter’s.

“I love you, Peter Parker.”

The boy smiled, making Tony’s resolve waver, but he stood his proverbial ground and just hugged him, tightly, kissing his neck without causing any marks.

“What else?”

The billionaire smiled.

“You’re beautiful. And _sexy_.”

Peter closed his eyes, happiness welling up inside him.

“I love you, too.”

Tony made a pleased noise, deep in his throat – almost a growl.

“Go to sleep.”

The boy chuckled, and cuddled a little closer, trying to ignore how excited he was and do what he was told. Eventually, it worked, and he drifted off in Stark’s arms.


	45. 45

“Are you alright?”

Peter nodded at Bruce, who hesitated as he got into the car, making Tony wait, too.

“Yes. Thanks.”

He wasn’t being a hundred percent honest, but Bruce didn’t need to _know_. Peter was frustrated to the point of being near tears – but it was his own fault, and he couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

“You _sure_? You look upset.”

“Yeah. No. I’m okay.”

“He’s _fine_ , Bruce,” Stark assured him, a little annoyed – and somewhat frustrated, as well. “Let’s go.”

Banner got into the back seat and Tony hesitated, stopping to study Peter, his expression softening as he looked at the boy, his back to Bruce.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said, softly. “We’ll take care of it tonight. Okay?”

Peter nodded, and watched as Tony shut his own door and Happy drove off, heading toward the city, and then he sighed and headed back toward the building, his destination the lounge, and some breakfast.

Tony _had_ planned to have breakfast with him. A nice, leisurely meal where they could discuss what Peter might want to do that weekend. Instead, Peter had been restless all night, even in Tony’s warm embrace, and had kept him awake. And that had made them sleep in, despite FRIDAY trying to wake the billionaire more than once.

Then Peter had wanted some quiet time with the two of them, _oral_ time, like he was getting used to having whenever he wanted. Unfortunately, Stark was already behind, and didn’t have the time. If he was the only one driving into the tower, he would have waited, but the project Bruce was working on was time sensitive and Tony pointed out to Peter that their time management issues – and _horniness_ – shouldn’t be Bruce’s problem, and had gotten himself showered and dressed, instead of staying in bed with the boy.

“Make sure you get some breakfast,” Tony had told him as Peter dressed, too, his lower lip stuck out in an adorable pout that the billionaire was trying to avoid looking at. “And call me if you need anything.”

Peter had sniffed at that, but had been silent. Tony _knew_ what he needed, and calling him wasn’t going to help the problem, was it?

Now that he was gone, Peter was restless with no outlet but a walk to the lounge and a meal of toast and juice. Which was where he was when Robert found him and joined him at the table and began asking him questions about how he was feeling, to get an idea of where he was, as far as getting over his illness.

Glad for the distraction, Peter answered him honestly. He wasn’t coughing any longer, felt pretty good, but hadn’t slept well the night before, and might take a nap later. The doctor had asked him what he’d eaten for breakfast, and when he was told, had ordered a pile of scrambled eggs with ham and had watched the boy eat every bite. Just to make sure he was fed, properly.

Peter sighed, but didn’t argue. The doctor was used to dealing with people a lot older and more hot-headed than he was. The boy didn’t have a chance against him, no matter how stubborn he wanted to be, and Robert was actually good company, asking Peter about hobbies and what he liked to do for fun.

When Peter asked him if he golfed, he confirmed that he did (pointing out that he was a _doctor_ , and all doctors golfed). When he asked if Peter did, the boy had admitted he’d never tried it. The result of that was the two of them standing out in the drilling field less than half an hour later with whiffle ball golf balls and the doctor’s own personal set of clubs and an impromptu lesson.

Surprising himself, Peter had enjoyed the lesson. The balls wouldn’t go very far, no matter how hard he hit them, and by the time Robert had to leave to check on his only two patients, Peter was already getting the hang of things.

“Have Tony take you out to a driving range,” the doctor suggested as they walked back into the building, Peter carrying the clubs. “You’ll get a better feel for the swing with real balls.”

“Thanks.”

“Drop those in the lounge for me,” Robert told him. “I’ll collect them later.”

Which had Peter back in the lounge feeling a little better for having had some fresh air, and in a better mood when Natasha found him sitting there debating whether he wanted to go work on homework or go take a nap or something.

She noticed he looked restless and suggested a walk. Since he was still, _technically_ , sick, she didn’t think he was probably up to anything more taxing, but that was fine with Peter. The two of them went outside and she took him around the outer perimeter of some of the compound, showing him security cameras that were cleverly hidden, and guard stations that were manned by drones and automated systems for the most part, but one SHIELD agent who had a German Shepherd attack dog with him that Peter played with for a few minutes, cooing over the vicious animal while it licked his face and made him giggle.

He was smiling, then, when Tony called to check on him as he and Romanoff walked back to the building. The billionaire looked relieved and asked him how his day was going and what he’d been doing. He seemed pleased that he was hanging out with Natasha, but told the boy that Happy was on his way to come collect him, and to make sure he was ready to go.

“You have time for lunch with _me_ , though,” Romanoff had said, her hand possessive on his shoulder. “Come on.”

He smiled, thrilled that she was so willing to spend her time with him. Not only a super secret spy (he now knew) but also an Avenger who was gorgeous and smelled amazing? How could he not enjoy her company? They went back to the lounge and Peter was just finishing lunch when Happy walked in looking for him.

The boy thanked Natasha for spending the morning with him and allowed Happy to shepherd him out to the car, and Peter just sat up in the front with him, thinking he’d feel ridiculous being driven around in the back of the luxury car.

“Do you want me to stop for anything?” the driver asked, as they pulled out of the compound. “The boss and I will stop for groceries when I pick him up tonight, but if there’s anything you want right now, we can get it.”

“I’m okay,” Peter assured him. “Thanks.”

They were quiet on the drive, but Peter assumed that Happy preferred it that way. Driving in the traffic they were in probably took a lot of concentration, after all, and he probably didn’t want to risk scratching the car.

“Need me to walk you up?” he asked when they pulled into the parking garage of the apartment.

“No. Thanks for the ride, Happy.”

He got into the elevator and FRIDAY let him in when he reached the door.

The apartment was just as he remembered it, of course, and Peter roamed it, freely, feeling restless, now, and anxious for Tony to be home so he could hold him. He pulled homework out of his backpack to work on some of it, but he couldn’t concentrate, and was working himself into a frustrated bundle of nerves by the time FRIDAY announced that Tony was in the elevator and on his way up.

Peter smiled, excitedly, practically squirming, and was standing at the kitchen island when the billionaire walked in, carrying a bag of groceries. He smiled at the boy, hugging him with his free arm and kissing him, tenderly, but he was clearly distracted. Not too distracted to ask Peter about his day, though.

“Hi, honey… did you have a good day?”

“Yeah. You?”

“No. We’re having problems with a merger, and it’s driving me _insane_.” He set the bag down on the counter, and started putting produce into the fridge. “Are you hungry?”

“No. I’m okay.”

He _was_ hungry, but not for food, and he didn’t want Tony to start cooking dinner until he’d been taken care of.

“FRIDAY, call Pepper.”

There was a very short delay, and then a woman’s voice came over the system, and Peter was quiet while she and Tony discussed some company that Peter had never heard of – a Japanese company to judge by the name. The billionaire was clearly annoyed, even though Peter didn’t understand much of what was being said – although he did hear the phrase Nanotech several times, which made him think that whatever it was, it was keeping him from doing the Nanotech thing with his suit.

Peter tried to soothe Tony as he conversed with the woman, trying to put his arms around him and hold him, or awkwardly placing himself in the way when Tony would begin pacing. Each time, Tony would brush a hand along his back, or his side, or once his hip, but would move to avoid the boy, who finally gave up and went and sat down on a bar stool.

When the call finally ended, Tony pulled down one of his displays and tapped in a few commands, and Peter saw the name of the company once more displayed.

“Tony…?”

“Yes, honey?”

He didn’t turn from what he was doing.

“Can we…?” he blushed. “I’m… I need to… you know…”

Asking for what he wanted wasn’t his strong suit, still, and he was very much aware of it.

“After dinner, Peter. I’m busy with this, right now. I want to beat the clock in Japan.”

“But you said that we would…”

“I said we would, tonight. Give me a minute, okay?”

Peter felt the sting of tears, and he tried to insinuate himself into the billionaire’s embrace, sliding between him and the display.

_“Please?”_

Stark sighed, and tucked the boy’s head under his chin, holding him with one hand, but still manipulating the display with the other, not doing anything about Peter’s problem. At least nothing that the Peter _wanted_ him to do.

“Give me twenty minutes…” Tony told him, brushing a kiss against his temple.

The boy sighed, but pulled away, and sat back down on the bar stool, his cheek in his palm, braced on the kitchen island as he watched Tony’s handsome face concentrate on the data being displayed. He was clearly focused, and Peter didn’t want to distract him, but he was getting used to being the focus of the billionaire’s world, and didn’t like being ignored.

When a half an hour went by, Peter sighed, somewhat loudly, to remind Tony he was there. With no reaction.

Twenty minutes after that, Peter got up and headed for the living room. His rear was getting sore from the bar stool and his leg was numb.

“FRIDAY, call Bruce Banner.”

Stark jerked his head toward the boy at the command.

“FRIDAY, cancel call. What are you doing, Peter?”

“I thought I’d see what Bruce is doing,” the boy replied, moodily. “Maybe _he_ has time for me.”

“Why are you being a shit? I’m almost done.”

“I’m _not_ ,” Peter told him. “I just don’t want to sit here and watch you work. I could have stayed at the compound and had someone willing to talk to me if I’d known you were going to be too busy to.”

Tony scowled, and Peter expected him to really lay into him – and recognized that he probably would have deserved it. Instead, Stark’s features softened, and he dismissed the screen with a single swipe.

“Come here, honey.” The boy did as he was told, and found himself engulfed in the older man’s arms, his head tucked under the chin, kisses peppered against his ear and his cheek. “I’m _sorry_. I’m used to coming home and working,” he murmured.

Peter sniffed, his eyes stinging him as he turned his head and put his cheek against Tony’s chest and held him.

“I can wait,” he said. “I just don’t _want_ to.”

Stark chuckled.

“I thought I had the market on being selfish,” he chided, gently. “It’s getting late. How about we make dinner, and then I’m all yours the rest of the night?”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely.”


	46. 46

Dinner was fish.

Nothing too fancy; some salmon steaks and seafood pasta on the side with a simple salad that Peter helped make. Not fancy for the _billionaire_ ; Peter had never had salmon before and watched with interest, thinking that it didn’t look at all like tuna. Tony was attentive to the boy while they prepared the meal, and while they ate. He asked him for specifics about his day, and gave him some details of his own, avoiding the merger at the moment, since that would make him want to go back to his display.

“You had lunch?”

“With Natasha,” he confirmed.

“Something hearty?”

“ _Spaghetti_. She insisted.”

Stark smiled, well aware that Romanoff didn’t like seeing Peter’s face so thin, either, and was all for getting some weight back on the boy.

“Good.” He gestured to the plate that Peter had cleared, knowing Tony wouldn’t do anything with him until he’d finished his meal. “Are you done?”

“Yes. It was good, thank you. Want me to do the dishes?”

“No.” Stark stood up and leaned over as he picked up the plates. He kissed Peter, tenderly, and then smiled. “I want you to go get naked and meet me in my bed.”

The billionaire chuckled at how quickly Peter obeyed. He took his time clearing the dishes from the table, and loading the dishwasher, but he was hard by the time he walked into his bedroom to find Peter sprawled on his bed, waiting.

He _had_ wanted to be posed for him, trying to be more worldly, but once undressed, he’d been cold, and had been forced to seek refuge under the blankets, or present himself shivering. Which wouldn't have been at all erotic, he was sure. When Tony walked into the bedroom, Peter pushed the blankets back a little, to show that he wasn’t dressed, as he’d been told, and the billionaire sat on the edge of the bed, sliding his hand along Peter’s cheek, then jaw, and followed the line to his neck and chest, while Peter trembled at the touch.

“Cold?”

“A little.”

“You’re still too thin,” he murmured, able to feel each individual rib as his fingers trailed to Peter’s belly.

“I eat everything you guys feed me,” Peter pointed out, a little self-consciously. He uncoiled, though, at the touch, stretching himself out and watching Tony’s eyes as he caressed his belly and then made his way back up to his chest. “I’m sorry I was impatient.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t impatient, enough,” Tony countered, standing up and taking off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. “Another example of the need for communication, is all.”

The boy had his complete attention, now, though. Stark watched him as he undressed himself, letting his clothes simply fall to the floor as he slid out of them, piece by piece until he was standing by the bed, naked and already throbbing.

“Suck me, Peter,” Tony told him, feeling a thrill of excitement go through him when the boy hurried to obey.

Peter came out from under the blankets, now, moving on his hands and knees to reach for Tony’s cock with one hand, guiding it into his mouth, hungrily. Tony murmured approval and slid his fingers through the boy’s hair, watching as he ran his longue along the shaft of Tony’s cock, teasing the underside for a moment with his tongue before taking it back into his mouth and sucking on it, again.

Stark groaned and slid his hands from Peter’s hair down his body, sliding along the boy’s hips and then leaning over to cup his ass, squeezing and kneading them and trying to resist the urge to slam himself into that hot, moist mouth.

“So good…” he cooed, watching his cock vanish repeatedly into Peter’s mouth when the boy started bobbing his head on the rod of flesh, his cheeks sucking hard with each motion. “So pretty, sweetheart. Suck me…”

The words spurred the boy on, and Peter’s fingers played with Tony’s testicles, rolling them in his hand, teasing them. Milking them. The billionaire released his ass and straightened up, both hands coming to Peter’s head, holding the boy still while he fucked his delicate mouth, lips stretching with each motion.

“Do I cum _now_?” Tony asked him, silkily. “Or make you wait for it?”

In response, Peter shifted, never losing the hold he had with his mouth, but bringing his hands up to Tony’s hips and digging his fingers in, holding the older man firmly in place while he flattened his tongue and slurped on Tony’s cock, noisily.

Stark groaned.

“Look at me, honey…”

Peter looked up at Tony, his brown eyes even darker with desire and it tipped him over the edge. His entire body tensed, and his balls tightened. Peter felt it and sucked harder, and Tony climaxed, emptying himself into the boy’s willing mouth as his hips jerked, trying to sink deeper, although he was careful – even in the height of his release – not to gag him.

He sighed with pleasure, watching as Peter swallowed him, and then lapped at his deflating cock like an eager puppy, clearing the last of Tony’s cum, and then simply nuzzling his testicles and the root of his shaft, enjoying the scent and the feel of the older man.

“You’re getting good at that,” Stark told him, approvingly, bringing his hand under Peter’s chin to force him to look up at him.

It made Peter smile, and his cheeks reddened just a shade at the praise.

“Practice, right?”

Tony smiled, too, but then pushed him, gently, backward, following the boy’s body with his own until he was covering him, his knees on either side of Peter’s thighs, his lips coming down to claim his in a heated kiss. Peter moaned, opening his mouth to Tony’s tongue and surrendering to him, willingly. Stark’s hand went down between them, pressing Peter’s cock against his belly, stroking him with firm, eager motions.

“So perfect,” he crooned into the boy's lips. “So hard for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“My beautiful boy… so pretty. So wonderful…”

Peter was thrusting in time to the motions Tony was making, and the words that were in such awesome rhythm. He was so close. So ready to explode.

“It’s okay, honey,” Tony whispered, moving his lips to Peter’s ear, his tongue trailing moisture along the boy’s sensitive flesh. “Cum in my hand. Get us messy… you can do it.”

That was all it took, of course.

With a strangled cry that Tony captured when he kissed him, once more, Peter thrust his hips against Tony, bucking under him and nearly dislodging him in his eagerness as his balls tightened and released, and the boy came, spraying himself and Tony with ropes of hot cum, the billionaire encouraging him and stroking him until he finally stilled under him.

Tony licked Peter’s jaw, wishing that he could leave a trail of love bites but knowing better. Instead, he settled for another kiss, and then raised himself up a little, looking down at their cum and sweat smeared bodies, first, and then at the boy, who had closed his eyes, but opened them when he sensed his lover’s gaze on him.

“How is the leg?”

Peter looked dazed, which amused him. He had every intention of fucking him stupid, but it had only taken a hand job to do it.

“What?”

“How does your leg feel, honey? Does it hurt?”

“No. It’s okay.”

“Good. Then let’s go take a bath. I’ve been waiting to fuck you in the tub, and now I can.”

“How does _that_ work?” Peter asked, trying to figure out how he wasn’t going to drown under Tony in a tub filled with water.

Stark kissed him again and then forced himself to get up, a hand reaching for Peter and pulling him to his feet, as well.

“I’ll show you.”

><<><<<<> 

Tony settled the boy up on the counter by the sink, putting him in a perfect position for him to be able to kiss him, lightly, running his fingers through his tousled hair.

“Bubbles?” he asked, moving away to turn on the water to the jacuzzi tub.

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted. “Is it better with them?”

“Depends on the individual,” he was told. “Can’t go wrong with slippery, though, right?”

The boy smiled, and shrugged.

“You’re the _boss_.”

Tony added a fair amount of bath beads to the water, making sure to hit the gentle jets so they would bubble up and then returned to stand between Peter’s knees.

“I _am_ the boss,” he murmured, nuzzling Peter’s neck, and licking his jaw. “You _realize_ that, right?”

“Yes…”

“Good. No more pouting. Or sulking. If you want something from me, you need to learn to articulate that desire. To _ask_ me for it. Understand?”

The boy turned his head, not liking that, at all, and allowing it to show.

“I’m no _good_ at that. You know that.”

“I know, honey,” he agreed, holding him in his arms and guiding Peter’s cheek to his bare chest. “But you need to _learn_. It’s that whole communications thing we keep talking about.”

“I tried to tell you what I wanted. You _ignored_ me.”

“Well, _I_ need to work on it, too. I’m not used to needing to worry about what someone else needs or wants. It’s been just me for a long time. Now, it’s _we_.” He looked over at the tub and saw that it was about where he wanted the water to be. “And right now,” he said, pulling away. “ _We_ are going to take a bath.”

He turned off the water and gestured for Peter to come over to the tub, as well. Then he eased himself into the water, and held his arms to the boy.

“Belly down, honey,” he said. “Put your knees on either side of my hips so I can hold you.”

It was an awkward position to get into, but once he was in the tub and sprawled on Tony’s lap, leaning against his chest, it was extremely comfortable. Peter was just far enough back on Tony’s thighs that the older mans cock and his own were trapped in between their bodies, and as they cuddled together in the hot water, occasionally one of them would reach between them and slide a palm along them, keeping them erect, but not so aroused that it was desperate.

“You’re so beautiful,” Tony crooned into Peter’s ear. “You know that, right?”

The boy smiled, loving the compliment.

“Yes.”

“And sexy.”

“What else?”

Tony chuckled; he was creating a monster – or maybe a praise kink. He didn’t care, though. He could feel Peter swelling against his stomach with every word, and that was making him more aroused, as well. His hand went to Peter’s ass, sliding through the soapy water and finding his tight hole which was neatly exposed since the boy was straddling him so perfectly.

“You’re irresistible,” he told him, sliding his finger into him, making Peter gasp and tuck his face against Tony’s neck. “And amazing. Brilliant. _Gorgeous_.”

Another finger joined the first, stretching Peter as Tony praised him, preparing him. Peter’s hips started to grind, gently, pressing the boy against the fingers that were invading him, making the boy whine softly against Stark’s jaw.

“Please, Tony…”

“What do you want, honey?” Tony asked, adding another finger, now, his cock throbbing in anticipation.

“I want you…”

“To…?”

The boy tucked his face deeper against the billionaire’s neck.

“You know.”

“ _Say_ it,” Stark told him, his hands now kneading the boy’s ass, spreading his cheeks even further. “Communicate with me.”

“Iwantyoutofuckme.”

“Raise up a little.”

When Peter did as he was told, Stark guided the head of his cock against the boy, and nudged the head against the still plenty tight opening. Tony’s hands went to Peter’s hips to control just how much the boy took at a time, and Peter moaned into his neck as Tony impaled him on his thick rod, filling the boy completely and not stopping until he was flush with his thighs, resting once more in Tony’s lap, but now pinned there.

“Perfect,” Tony told him. “My perfect boy; so tight. So hot. Just for me.”

“Just for you, Tony,” Peter assured him, rolling his hips and feeling himself stuffed full.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” Tony told him. “Fill you up, and then turn you over and start again.”

Peter gasped, again, as the words were accompanied by the action, and Tony began moving the boy, lifting him, then lowering him, teaching Peter the rhythm that he had been seeking without even knowing it.

“Yesss. Please…”

He raised up and then simply dropped himself down, causing Tony to gasp, too. Soon they two were moving in hard, fast jerks, breath coming faster as their pace increased, their ardor rising. Tony moved his hand once more to Peters cock, and he started stroking him in time to their thrusts.

“I want you to cum for me, Peter…” he cooed. “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

He came, first, his hips slamming upward, driving himself into the boy as hard as he could, Peter’s arms around him, anchoring himself firm against Tony as he rode the cock that was invading him, seeming to swell even larger and then tensing and driving home once more time to shoot Tony’s hot cum deeper than he’d ever had it before, it seemed.

The boy cried out in pleasure at the sensation and he climaxed, as well, his cock jumping in Tony’s hand and splattering the two of them and dispersing into the hot, soapy, water.

Peter collapsed against Tony, trembling in his embrace, and the older man hitched his hips several times, pulling the boy down onto his lap, feeling Peter’s tight hole caressing and squeezing in on his shaft. Peter’s head rested on Tony, their hearts pounding, hard, and breathing coming in gasps for a few long moments.

The boy made a satisfied noise, rolling his hips, experimentally, his weight keeping Tony inside him, for the moment.

“Bubbles,” Peter murmured, tiredly. “Definitely.”


	47. 47

Peter woke first the next morning.

In Tony’s bed, bare-ass naked with the billionaire’s arm comfortably around him and his front pressed right up against Peter’s back. The boy shivered, even wrapped up as he was, since their blankets had shifted in the night and they weren’t covered from the waist up.

He felt Tony’s grip tighten for just a moment, and then let him go, bringing the blankets back up to cover them both, but reaching around to tuck them under Peter.

“You cold, honey?”

Peter nodded.

“Yes. It’s okay.”

He was _always_ cold. Unless Tony was covering him like a blanket – or the evening before when they were in the tub. Between the water and Tony, Peter had been pretty warm.

Tony snuggled closer, his head lifting from the pillow and his lips finding Peter’s ear, which _really_ made the boy shiver. But this time in reaction. Peter pressed himself back against him, longing to feel Tony’s cock against the small of his back, or even better, against his rear. He was already sporting an erection, but he usually did many mornings. And had since he was fourteen.

Nothing new.

Sometimes he’d take care of it. Sometimes he wouldn’t and it would eventually go away. Now, of course, he had Tony, and that meant he didn’t have to ignore it and wait for it to go away.

Tony’s hand slid along Peter’s side, down his hip and around, until he was caressing the boy’s cock, his fingers wrapped around the shaft.

“Hmmm… what do we have here?” he murmured in Peter’s ear. “Feels like someone has a problem.”

“Yes…” Peter approved, completely, of Tony stroking him.

“What are you going to do about it?”

The boy huffed.

Tony had taken them back to bed after getting out of the bath, and in the glowing aftermath of their bathtub sex, he’d told Peter that he was going to expect him to _tell_ him what he wanted from now on. That would be a new way for them to communicate, and to be on the same page, so to speak. Unless they were doing something that Peter didn’t know anything about, like trying something new, then Tony wouldn’t expect him to know what he wanted, and knew Peter wouldn’t know what to ask for.

Otherwise, Tony would only get Peter off if he told him how he wanted it done.

It wasn’t the way Peter wanted it; he became flustered and uncertain, which made him tongue-tied, but Tony had seemed serious at the time, and obviously hadn’t forgotten the new restriction now that morning was upon them.

The question, then, was if Peter was more stubborn about it than Tony was. Or, more to the point, really; was he horny enough to lose the inhibition?

“ _Tony_ …”

Stark let go of his penis and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him, lovingly.

“Say the words, Peter,” he whispered, encouragingly. “It’s not that _hard_.”

He was wrong, though, because it _was_. Feeling very much abused by the new rule, Peter closed his eyes, trying to relax.

“Please…?”

“Please, _what_ , honey?” The billionaire caressed his side, sliding his fingertips along Peter’s ribs.

He opened his mouth intending to ask to be sucked, and literally nothing came out but a ridiculous sounding squeak. He gave up.

“Nothing…”

Peter rolled over, into Tony’s side and buried his face into the billionaire’s chest. He didn’t want to have to ask for what he wanted. It wasn’t _fair_. Of course, it wasn’t anything _new_ , either. Tony had made him ask from the very beginning. It just didn’t make it any easier.

“Poor baby…” Tony cradled him in his arms, but he didn’t reach for the boy's cock, even though he could feel it throbbing against his thigh. “Maybe later.”

“No.” Peter sniffed. “It’s _easy_ for you. You’re good at it.”

“Because I learned how,” Tony pointed out. “Let me demonstrate.” He pulled away, just enough to look at the boy; his doe brown eyes watery with frustration – he _wanted_ to say it, he just knew it wouldn’t come out right, and he’d look and sound stupid. “Suck my cock, Peter. _Now_.”

Just because _Peter_ wanted to hold out, it didn’t mean Tony was willing to.

There was only a moment’s hesitation before the boy did as he was told. He moved out of Tony’s embrace and pushed the blankets out of the way, exposing Tony’s somewhat aroused penis. Turning away from the older man because he knew Tony liked watching his ass, he bent over and slid his tongue along the shaft, flicking the underside of the head and flattening his tongue to lap at the precum that was drooling from the tip.

“Good…” Tony kneaded Peter’s ass while the boy teased him into full arousal and then hitched his hips slightly, nudging the head of his cock against Peter’s lips. “Open up, honey. Suck me.”

Peter did. He opened his mouth and drew Tony into him as far as he could, slurping and sucking as he bobbed his head up and down, eagerly. The hand that wasn’t bracing him above Tony’s cock wrapped around himself and he started stroking his own cock in the same rhythm that he was sucking Tony’s, while the billionaire played with his ass cheeks and watched with approval. Soon Peter was climaxing, his hand stroking faster and harder, and his rhythm faltering for a moment on Tony’s cock as he came, smearing Tony’s belly and his hand. Stark steadied him with a firm grip on his hips until the boy’s orgasm crested, and then silently demanded he continue what he was doing, until Tony, too, was suddenly grunting in pleasure at his release, feeding Peter a load of morning cum.

The boy cleaned him off, licking him, lovingly, and lapping at his testicles when Tony pulled him away and tucked him back up against him, pulling the blankets back up to keep Peter from getting cold.

“See? I told you what I wanted, and I got it,” Tony told him, tucking Peter under his chin. “Why is it so hard for you?”

“It just _is_.”

“Say it now.”

“What?”

“Whatever you wanted me to do.”

Even as he held him, he could feel the heat of the boy’s blush against the bare skin of his chest.

“I… I wanted… Iwantedtobesucked.”

Tony smiled, and pressed a soothing kiss against his ear. It was really a problem with him, but he was determined to get him over it. He wanted to know what Peter wanted, and that meant the boy needed to be able to tell him.

“We’ll try again, later, okay? Give me a chance to finish waking up, and then we’ll have breakfast and go find something to do to take our minds off your mental block.”

“Like what?”

“Whatever you want to do.”

“It’s _your_ turn to choose, remember?” Peter reminded him. “I picked Coney Island.”

Good point. They weren’t going to repeat _that_ , were they?

“Robert showed you how to golf, you said?”

“Yes. _Kind_ of.”

“Then we’ll go to the driving range.”

“He said that, too,” Peter replied, looking up at him. “It’s not really _driving_ , though right? Not cars, I mean.”

Stark smiled.

“No. You’ll see. It’s all about golf.”

But he had a lot of _cars_ , too. If that was something the boy wanted to do, it could be arranged.

“Can we have crepes for breakfast?”

“Yes, honey.”

That wasn’t so hard. If sex were _food_ , Peter would be fine.


	48. 48

When they finally got out of bed, Tony pulled Peter into a communal shower with him. He lavished attention on the boy, washing him lovingly and reminding him just how amazing and wonderful he was. He didn’t want Peter to think that he didn’t love him or cherish him with the new rule about asking for what he wanted. He _did_ love him. But he figured this was one of those times when tough love was needed. Or _self_ love if the boy had to keep pleasuring himself because he wouldn’t ask Tony to do it for him.

He wasn’t too worried, though, really. Peter was smart. And brave enough to try and save the city one little guy at a time. He’d figure it out. Tony would make sure of it. He wasn't going to be able to keep his hands off him for _too_ long, after all.

They both enjoyed the contact that the shower provided. Tony spent a lot of time with soapy hands running along the boy’s porcelain skin before rinsing him and washing his hair. Peter never asked him to suck him or stroke him, though, and Tony didn’t offer. But he did kiss him, soundly, several times and both were pleasantly breathless by the time they dried off and got dressed for their day.

Stark made breakfast, while Peter sat at the kitchen island and watched. As he cooked, Tony explained the driving range at the golf course and how it worked.

“We’ll whack a few buckets of balls and see how you do,” he said, finally, as he handed Peter a plate loaded with crepes and sausages. “If you don’t hate it, we’ll go out and golf 18 holes. Sound good?”

“Sure.”

When they were finished eating, Peter helped clean the kitchen, figuring that since he couldn’t really cook, it was at least some way that he could contribute to the household chores. Then he grabbed a sweatshirt, even though it was a warm, sunny day, Tony pulled his golf clubs out of the closet, and the billionaire drove them to the exclusive golf club that he preferred.

Their first stop was the pro shop. The clerk helped the two find a set of clubs that fit Peter’s reach and height, and even though the boy pointed out that it was folly to buy him clubs since he didn’t even know if he’d like the game, Tony purchased the set of clubs, a matching bag, shoes and a glove, just to make sure he had everything.

“You can’t _share_ clubs,” Stark told the boy as they carried their bags out to the driving range. “It’s like sharing a toothbrush, or something. It just isn’t done. Besides, sometimes we’ll be on different parts of the hole, looking for our balls.”

Peter smirked at the unintentional innuendoes in the conversation, causing Tony to roll his eyes, amused, and he grinned, pleased to see the boy so cheerful.

“ _Grow up_ , Parker.”

The boy chuckled, but didn’t say a word as Tony went to buy a couple of buckets of balls for them to whack.

<<>><><>>> 

“It’s not very _hard_ …”

“It _is_ ,” the billionaire told him, watching as the boy hit several balls in a row to the exact spot he’d been told to aim for. “You’re just exceptionally good at it.”

He _was_ , too.

It had simply been a matter of Tony finishing the lesson that Dr. Anderson had started, and giving Peter a chance to get the feel of the clubs and how the swing was supposed to be. Then he'd simply stood back and watched as the boy put on a display for himself and the others on the driving range, easily hitting whatever he was told to hit; which included distance markers, other colored golf balls and a few times the specially designed vehicle that was driven out to collect the balls being hit.

Clearly his impressive hand eye coordination and the strength that was augmented by his spider enhancements had an interesting side-effect. He was really good. Tony was interested in seeing just how good.

“Ready to give it a try in real world applications?”

“Yes.”

They left the small crowd of surprised onlookers and went to get a golf cart.

><><><>>> 

“Seriously,” Stark said a few hours later, sitting at a table in the dining room of the country club, basking up the sunshine streaming through the window they’d been seated next to. “I could make a _killing_ with you, wagering on golf shots.”

Peter blushed with happiness at the praise, even though he knew that he had very little to do with how good it turned out that he was at golfing. It was ridiculously easy, after all.

“I’d rather stay under the radar,” he admitted.

“Yeah? Well, it’s something to think about if the whole superhero or scientist things fall through.”

The boy smiled at that.

“I have a few years, either way, most likely.”

“Probably.”

They ordered lunch and had a good time.

The club was exclusive enough that Tony was able to just be himself and not have to worry about people coming up to him asking for autographs or pictures, and that gave him a chance to relax and enjoy Peter’s company. A few people did walk up to say hello, but they were either businessmen or politicians that had contact with the billionaire before and were simply being social.

When they weren’t being interrupted, Peter was questioning Tony about the latest incarnation of the Ironman suit and what kind of refinements he was planning for it. Since Stark could literally discuss tech for hours – if not days – the conversation rarely faltered as they ate their lunch, had a leisurely dessert and then packed Peter’s new clubs into the trunk of the car with Tony’s and drove back to the apartment.

“You know,” Stark told him as they left the parking garage and entered the elevator, glad to be home. “There’s no reason you and I can’t work on making you a better suit than the one we had to throw away. Something bullet-proof, even, maybe.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“I don’t know,” the boy said. “It’s just a part-time thing,” he pointed out. “Not like Ironman or anything.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Tony told him. “You’re trying to do good and you’re doing it with no real recognition. I think that’s pretty great. But you definitely need a better outfit. Something tighter, safer, and a better way to incorporate your web spinners – maybe even work on the webbing a bit, if you’re willing. Although Bruce has more chemistry chops than I do, so we might hit him up for some assistance.”

“Really?”

Tony rolled his eyes, and hugged the boy as they exited the elevator and walked into the living room.

“Yes, _really_. Stop sounding so shocked. Of course, I want to help you. _Bruce_ will, too, I bet.”

“It’s just a lot to take in,” Peter said, leaning into the embrace and resting his cheek against Tony’s shoulder, holding him. “I’ve always hidden it, you know? The thought of having someone actually help me be better at it is new…”

“I know, honey.” Tony pressed a kiss against his temple. “But I’m here for you, okay? Just remember that. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He put his arms around the older man, sliding his hands under the back of the polo shirt Stark was wearing and savoring the fact that he was allowed to touch him like that when no else did. Tony chuckled, feeling his loins tighten a bit at the touch – and it wasn’t even remotely erotic _or_ sexual! He’d barely brushed the skin on his back.

“I love your hands, Peter,” he murmured into the boy’s ear, his own coming down to slide under the back of Peter’s jeans, cupping his ass in his palms and pulling him tightly against him, grinding his pelvis against the boy’s belly. “You’re so sensual.”

Peter shivered. He didn’t know about that, but he loved _Tony’s_ hands, too, and wanted them on him. Everywhere.

“I need you, Tony,” he whispered, closing his eyes when the older man’s hand found his crack, caressing him, tenderly, but arousing Peter so easily. “Please.”

“Ask me for it,” Stark crooned, his breath hot and moist in Peter’s ear. “Tell me what you _want_ , honey, and I’ll do it to you all night long.”

_“Visitors coming to the elevator, boss,”_ FRIDAY cut in before Peter could even attempt to open his mouth to try to form the words that were already catching in his throat.

Tony groaned; hugging Peter closer.

“Who is it?”

_“Bruce Banner, James Rhodey, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff and Sam Wilson.”_

“What? What are _they_ doing here?”

_“Unknown.”_

“It was rhetorical, FRIDAY.” He kissed Peter, quickly, and then let him go, looking down at the boy’s jeans to see if there was any unmistakable sign of arousal. He looked slightly dazed, but the front of his pants weren’t bulging, just yet, so they were probably fine. “Let them up.”

By the time the elevator doors opened, and the visitors exited the car, Tony and Peter were at the kitchen island; Tony with a beer, Peter with a cola. They looked over as the others walked in, and all of them were carrying bags of groceries.

“Hey, boys,” Romanoff said by way of greeting, walking over to the kitchen and dropping her bags on the counter, followed by the others, who did the same. Bags of white paper - obviously meat - chips, condiments, side dishes and who knew what else? “What are you two up to?”

“We just got back from the country club,” Stark replied, gesturing to the golf clubs that had been left unceremoniously next to the entrance when they’d arrived home. “What are _you_ guys up to?”

“We were in the neighborhood and thought we’d join you for dinner.”

“In the _neighborhood_?” Tony echoed.

“Sort of,” Bruce said, smiling. “I was at the _tower_ , anyway.”

Stark looked at the others.

“We were hungry,” Steve said, shrugging. “And since you have a _grill,_ and no personal life, we figured it would be safe to stop and get the makings and come find a place to cook some steaks. We brought _hotdogs_ ,” he added.

“There are grills at the _compound_ ,” Tony pointed out.

He had had _much_ different plans for the evening, really; plans that definitely didn’t include anyone other than himself and Peter.

Romanoff chuckled, and slid her arm around Peter, pressing a kiss against his cheek, impudently, and smiling when he blushed brilliantly.

“But _Peter_ isn’t at the compound,” she said. “Is he?”

The billionaire smiled at just how happy Peter looked, and shrugged. They could finish their conversation later, and he had all night to play in the bedroom. It made his heart happy to see the boy so pleased that they had singled him out to want to spend time with him.

“Fine. You can all stay,” he told them. “But you have to help clean up the mess you make. The housekeeper isn’t coming for a few days.”

“Deal.”


	49. 49

“You need help with him?”

Tony looked down at the boy, who had fallen asleep on the chaise lounger, and shook his head.

“Nah. I’ve got him, Steve. I’ll wake him up and send him to bed when you guys are gone.”

“We’re going,” Rogers told him, looking at his watch. “The coach turns into a pumpkin at midnight, and it’s coming up on that, now.”

Stark smiled, looking at the small group still hanging out on his balcony.

“Thanks for coming over. Peter had a good time.”

“Just _Peter_?” Rhodey asked.

“Of course. I mean, you guys _did_ just come barging in, unannounced, eating all my food, drinking all my booze and keeping me from my nightly fix of _Deadliest Catch_.”

“I’ll remind you that _we_ brought the food,” Sam pointed out.

“ _And_ the booze,” Romanoff added.

“Whatever. Don’t do it, again.”

His smile clearly told them otherwise, and they all could tell. Gathering up their things, they said their goodbyes. He reminded them that Peter might end up at the compound during the next week and then walked them out. He returned to the kitchen long enough to make sure that any leftovers had been put in the fridge, and then walked back out to the balcony and crouched down beside Peter’s sleeping form.

They’d had a good evening. There had been a lot of food; Rogers loved to grill and was good at it. He’d brought steaks, hamburger, and hotdogs. There were chips, pasta salad and potato salad (store made, but not bad, despite it) and raw veggies to balance out all the rest. With cupcakes as a treat for dessert. As they’d grilled, Tony had described just how impressive Peter had turned out to be as a golfer, which had made the boy blush in pleasure at the looks they gave him.

Then, as they eaten, the talk turned to Peter’s other abilities and that progressed to them turning to the outside display and Tony having FRIDAY pull up all YouTube videos that had captured Spiderman in action. There weren’t a lot, but the ones they had were impressive. Steve asked about the webbing, which had ended up with Peter bringing out his webshooters and the Avengers all experimenting with them, leaving the balcony in a sticky mess that had fascinated all of them - but Bruce, especially - until the stuff had dissolved a couple of hours later.

By then, though, the day had caught up to Peter, and he’d fallen asleep on the lounge chair. Rather than wake him, then, they’d simply covered him, warmly, with a blanket, and turned the discussion to other things that the boy wouldn’t have found interesting, but they did.

He brushed gentle fingers along Peter’s cheek, then leaned over to kiss his closed eyelid.

“Hey, honey, wake up…”

“Hmmm?”

He didn’t open his eyes, but the tender tone of Tony’s voice must have bled through into whatever dream he might have been having, because he _did_ smile. Which made Tony smile, too. God, so fucking adorable. And all _his_.

“Peter?” The billionaire whispered. “Let’s go to bed.”

“I’m _sleepy_.”

Tony rolled his eyes. Sleepy Peter was adorable, yes, but just a little _exasperating_ , as well.

“Which is why we’re going to go to _bed_.”

“Okay…”

Tony waited, but the boy simply shifted, just a little, under the blanket, and was still, once more.

He tried, again.

“Hey.” His hand palmed the boy’s cheek. “Come on. Bedtime.”

Peter groaned, softly, and opened his eyes, looking up at him.

“What?”

“It’s bedtime, honey,” Tony told him. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

He still wasn’t completely awake, but he did _sit_ up, leaning heavily against Tony, who put an arm around his waist and pulled him to his feet, bracing him. Peter sighed and allowed Stark to guide him into his bedroom, prop him up on the edge of the bed and start undressing him; shoes and socks, then his jeans and boxers and finishing with his sweatshirt and t-shirt.

“You’re so beautiful,” Tony murmured, running his hands along the boy’s body as he maneuvered him into the bed and made sure there was a pillow under his head. “So lovely.”

Peter’s cheek reddened, and he smiled, but he didn’t open his eyes, still much more asleep than awake.

“FRIDAY, lights.”

The lights in the room lowered to almost nothing, with only a nightlight in the bathroom casting illumination onto the scene. Which was plenty for both of them.

The billionaire undressed, feeling his cock swell at the sight of the boy in his bed, and he slid under the covers beside him, gathering Peter into his arms and draping one of the boy’s legs over his hip to make sure there was no space in between them. Now his cock was pressing against the tender skin of Peter’s stomach, and leaving trails of precum in its wake as Tony slowly rutted himself against him, his hand on the boy’s hip keeping him in position.

Peter responded to the touch, and to the motions, his hand finding Tony’s cock and holding it against him as the older man continued what he was doing, his breath coming a little faster.

“Feels good?” Peter asked, his tone making Tony wonder just how awake he was at the moment.

“ _So_ good…” he moved his hand from Peter’s hip to his cheek. “Open your eyes, sweetheart. Look at me.”

Peter did as he was told, and Tony felt his heart skip a beat when those beautiful eyes opened and looked at him, slightly glazed with sleepiness, but much more alert than they had been.

“Hey, Tony…”

“Hey, honey. I need you, Peter… _please_?”

“I’m yours,” the boy assured him, closing his eyes, again, but caressing Tony’s cock with exquisite tenderness. “Only yours.”

“Tell me what I can do to you.”

“Anything.”

“Be _specific_ ,” Tony whispered, still under the constraints of his own rule. “What do you _want_ me to do to you?”

“Tony…”

“You said it was easier to say in the dark,” the billionaire reminded him, gently. “It’s _dark_. Say it.”

There was the slightest of hesitations, and then…

“Fuck me, Tony. Suck on me. I want you to make me feel good. Please?”

It _was_ easier to say in the dark, he didn’t know why.

Stark groaned, and pushed Peter onto his back, moving the blankets aside and finding the boy’s cock unerringly, even in the dim light. Peter whimpered as his mouth enclosed the throbbing shaft, sucking eagerly on just the head, first, and then sliding his tongue down along the shaft as he  engulfed him, fully, his throat closing over the flesh for just a moment before he had to pull back to take a breath and do it again.

He felt the boy’s hand in his hair as Peter’s back arched, driving him into Tony’s mouth, obviously trying to be careful, but unable to completely keep from thrusting his hips. Stark took hold of Peter’s hips and gentled him with the touch, but didn’t stop what he was doing, and was soon rewarded with a cry of pleasure as the boy climaxed. Clamping down on him, Tony slurped and licked him, milking him for everything that he had in him, and making approving noises designed to heighten the sensation.

He didn’t stop, either, just because Peter came. He nuzzled his lips against the boy’s testicles for just a moment, to give Peter a chance to catch his breath, and then he chuckled, softly, at the satiated sigh of relief, and started lapping the sensitive shaft, teasing it and silently, but concisely, demonstrating the reward for being able to ask for what he wanted.

Peter groaned when he realized that Tony wasn’t finished with him, and he threaded his fingers through the billionaire’s hair, closing his eyes and giving himself up to him and to the sensations coursing through him.

“Yes… don’t stop… please…”

Since Tony’s mouth was once more filled, he couldn’t answer him with more than a muffled moaning noise, but his fingers caressed Peter’s balls while his mouth, lips and tongue brought him right back to attention and soon had him exploding once more into the older man’s mouth. Tony licked him clean, slowly, debating if Peter needed him to suck him off once more, or if he was good to go for a little while, at least. When a few gentle licks and nibbles didn’t produce more than a slight twitch, he smiled and moved up on the boy, pressing kisses along his back, then his sides, his neck and then claimed his lips.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“It _was_ ,” Peter admitted. “But thank you.”

Tony nudged the boy’s thighs apart, covering him almost completely, and reached for the lube.

“We’re not done, honey,” he cooed, his own cock aching for release, too. “Open up for me, Peter. Daddy’s going to fuck you all night.”

Peter felt a thrill go through him at the whispered promise, and shifted, opening his legs and giving himself over to Tony.

“Please…”


	50. 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't let it be said I don't listen to requests and put them in when it fits

Peter woke with a start and a gasp, jerked from the nightmare before it really began by his own subconscious mind recognizing that it was coming and waking him before it could hit. He felt the arms that were holding him tighten, automatically, and a sleepy voice spoke against his neck.

“Shh, honey… I’m here. Daddy has you…”

He held still, trembling, waiting for the panic to wash over him, but it didn’t. The presence of the man pressed against his back was keeping it at bay, and he could have cried with relief at the realization. He turned in Tony’s embrace, easily – one of the few perks of being small and wiry like he was – and buried his face against the billionaire’s chest, shivering.

The motion woke Tony, who tucked him closer, reacting automatically to the shivering, trying to warm him, even though the blankets were still covering them this time.

“Are you okay?” he asked, softly.

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Bad dream?”

Tony was beginning to understand that the boy he loved so much was easy prey for the self-doubts that brought the nightmares – one of the reasons that he was always so willing to praise him and remind him how wonderful he was.

“Yes… no… I’m not… no. _No_.”

He ran his fingers through Peter’s hair, keeping his face right up against his chest.

“So… _no_?”

He was so bad at articulating when he was flustered. Amusing, somewhat, but potentially _dangerous_ – for a superhero in the making.

“I think so, but I woke up, first.”

“Oh. Are you alright?”

The boy sighed, feeling only the man he was cuddled against and his own slightly aching body. Aching because of how well used he was, just then. Tony had been exaggerating about spending the _entire_ night fucking him, but not by all that much.

“I’m okay,” he assured him, and the shivering _was_ subsiding, proving him right. “Go back to sleep.”

Tony hadn’t opened his eyes, worn out from so much of a good thing. He pressed a kiss against Peter’s hair and did as he was told, but came awake once more when Peter shifted and started to move out of his arms. He automatically reached for him, again, to keep him close.

“Where are you going, honey?”

“To the bathroom,” Peter whispered. “ _Shh_ …” he turned the tables on the older man and caressed him, tenderly, his hand brushing his cheek, tracing the line of facial hair on his jaw. “Go to sleep, Tony.”

He settled with a tired sigh and Peter slipped out of the bed and pulled the blankets up, tucking them around him before walking to the bathroom and closing the door, silently, before turning on the light. He shivered, again, this time with _cold_ , and started the shower, thinking that he’d warm himself up with hot water instead of waking Tony by using him to do it.

The water was really hot – Peter handled warm a _lot_ better than he did cold – and he washed himself, thoroughly, enjoying the smell of vanilla and coconut from the body wash and shampoo mingling in the steamy room. Then simply stayed under the spray, letting the steam and water both settle him as the warmth permeated even that cold spot in his core that always shivered, even when the rest of him was fine.

The water never turned cold. Never deviated from the initial hot that it started with – something unheard of for Peter, who had only lived in apartments equipped with a single hot water heater with a finite tank. He tilted the showerhead until he could rest his forehead against the tile in front of him and still have the spray striking the back of his head, with the water running down from his neck and to his back, easing every ache. Then he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to rest as languidly as his body was.

Right up until strong arms came around him, startling him from his half-drowsing state.

“Shhh…” Tony was just as naked as he was, holding him from behind, and burying his face in the junction of his neck and shoulder.

Peter should have realized that the billionaire would notice when he didn’t return to their bed, and would have come looking for him to check on him.

“I’m okay,” he assured him, before he could ask.

“Good.” He wasn’t shaking. That was a start. “You’re warm.”

“Yeah. Feels good.”

The older man smiled and hugged him, tightly.

“Yes, it does. Come back to bed, honey. I’ll keep you warm, now.”

Tony waited for Peter to nod, and then reached around him and turned off the water, drawing the boy out of the shower and into the steaming, hot, bathroom. He toweled them both dry, spending much more time with Peter – especially that unruly mop of damp curls – and wrapped the boy in a warm bathrobe before opening the door and leading him out into the much cooler bedroom.

Peter shivered at the change of temperature, and Tony settled them both back into the bed, keeping the robe on the boy to retain what warmth he could. Much as he preferred him naked, he also preferred him _warm_ , and at the moment, he didn’t really _need_ him naked. Not after their most recent round of sexual activity. He was ready for cuddling – and couldn’t do that without the boy, obviously.

Peter pressed right up against Tony, who murmured something unintelligible in approval, and kissed the top of his hair.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You _didn’t_. I never sleep, remember?”

The boy smiled.

“We’ll have to fix that.”

“If anyone can, you can,” Tony told him, sincerely. “Feeling better?”

“ _Warmer_. I didn’t feel _bad_ , or anything. Just restless and a little chilly. I didn’t want to keep you awake.”

“It’s my job to take care of you.”

“Why?”

“I saved your life. That makes me responsible for you, right?”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“I wasn’t _that_ shot up… I probably wouldn’t have died.”

He was so glad that Tony and Happy had found him, though. Being on his own had been so lonely.

“I meant the _first_ time we met.”

“Oh.” He smiled, thinking back to that scary evening, and how incredible the moment had been. “Yeah. I probably wouldn’t have survived _that_ one.”

“See?” Tony slid his hand inside the robe, resting his palm against Peter’s prominent ribs. “You’ve been my responsibility for years, and I just never knew it. But I’m here, now, and I’ve got you, honey.”

“Then you shouldn’t be so _mean_ to me…” Peter told him. “Making me ask for everything I want. You should just _know_.”

“It’s important that you communicate with me,” Tony replied. “It’s not fair to me to make me guess. What if I bent you over and made love to you when all you really wanted was for me to suck on you? Or what if all you wanted was to be held and comforted, and I buried your head in my lap, instead? Eventually, it would become worrisome at best, annoying and festering at the worst. I _want_ to know what you like, and what you _don’t_ like, so I can make you feel good. All the time.”

“What do _you_ like?” Peter asked, saving that explanation in his mind for later consideration, since he was sure Tony was right.

“Anything.”

“I could say the same, and you’d tell me to be specific.”

Which was true, and Tony knew it. The problem with loving someone who wasn’t an idiot.

“I like to be in charge. Once you tell me what you want from me, I enjoy being the one who decides when it happens, and _how_.”

Peter already had figured that out.

“Yeah. What else?”

“I enjoy having my cock in your mouth. I’d _like_ you to learn how to deepthroat me, if we can do it without hurting you.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It _can_ , baby. If we weren’t careful. I’ll never hurt you. Not on purpose – and I expect you to tell me right away if I do it, accidentally.”

The way he said it made it an order, Peter realized.

“I will.”

“Good. Now, it’s dark in the room, right?”

“Yes.”

“And we’re communicating. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what _you_ like – as far as you know. I’m not up to _doing_ it, right now, but I want to know what you enjoy the most.”

Peter blushed, and felt Tony’s hand brush along his side, reassuring him.

“I don’t… I’m not _sure_.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Tony reminded him, aware that he was getting flustered. “It’s part of our relationship – and an _important_ one. Daddy can’t make you feel good, if I don’t know what turns you on the most.”

The boy smiled.

“Does it only have to be what you _do_ to me?” he asked. “Or can it be the way I like it when you say I’m perfect, or brave, or beautiful?”

“Of course, it can be those things. If they make you feel good, then I’ll keep doing it.”

“Your turn,” Peter said. “What can I say to you to make you feel good?”

He wasn’t a smooth talker, and was painfully aware of it.

For the first time, though, he felt Tony hesitate. Could practically _feel_ the older man’s uncertainty.

“It’s _communicating_ ,” Peter told him, more than willing to throw the billionaire’s words back at him. “I want to _excite_ you, Tony. How do I do that?”

“Call me daddy, honey. Be my baby – at least in bed.”

“That’s _it_?”

“ _Say_ it, Peter. It doesn’t even have to be filled with expletives.”

Tony had no trouble telling Peter what he wanted – especially since the big desire was now out between them.

“Daddy…”

He felt the shiver go through Tony; he couldn’t miss it being as close as he was.

“Yes. Just like that.”

The boy smiled, and kissed Tony’s neck.

“A compromise?”

“Hmmm?”

“You want to be daddy, right?”

“Yes.”

“And in _charge_.”

Obviously. Which was almost certainly a part of the daddy thing, Peter guessed.

“Absolutely.”

“Then if I’m stumbling over telling you what I want you to do, _specifically_ , then I want you to decide, until I’m able to tell you. Daddy decides by default.”

Tony hesitated.

“You don’t use it as a way out, though,” he countered. “You _really_ have to make an effort to try before you tell me you can’t.”

“Fair.”

“What else?”

“You teach me to cook.”

The older man chuckled.

“I can do that.”

“I love you, daddy.”

Tony groaned and hugged him, close.

“I love you, too, honey. Think you can go back to sleep for a while?”

It was still early, and he didn’t want a grumpy boy on his hands later on in the day.

“Yes. You?”

“Yeah.”

He tucked Peter right up against him, feeling the warmth from the boy and making sure it was skin that he was up against, not the cloth from the bathrobe.

“Say something to make me feel good, daddy,” Peter told him, testing out the word, as if to familiarize himself with it.

Tony smiled; wondering if Peter realized that he was also making his desires known. It wasn’t much, but it was there.

“You’re amazing, baby,” he whispered, caressing Peter’s cheek with his fingertips. “Beautiful, and strong, and brave.”

“Hmmm…” the low, pleased note that rumbled from Peter’s chest made his heart happy, and Tony rested his chin on Peter’s head.

“We’re going to get you a haircut, later today, honey. Daddy’s boy is looking shaggy. Okay?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Oh, yes, Stark thought as he closed his eyes, nestled right up against his prize. He could definitely get used to that. His cock twitched at the thought of hearing Peter say it when he was driving into him, his body pinning the boy under him. He could _wait_ ; he wanted Peter to get some sleep, but it wouldn’t be too long.

Absolutely.


	51. 51

Peter woke Tony a few hours later. He wasn’t trying to; he was trying to get out of the robe without making any more movements than necessary, but he was tangled in it and one arm was pinned, while the belt of the robe had somehow managed to get twisted around his other arm and under him. Tony stirred, his arm automatically pulling Peter closer, comforting him if he was having a bad dream, reminding him that he was there, if he wasn’t.

“You okay, baby?”

“I’m _stuck_.”

The billionaire opened his eyes and pulled the blankets back enough to see what he meant, and smiled at the tangled mess revealed.

“Yes, you are.” He moved back, lifting himself up, since somehow he’d rolled onto one corner of the fabric, while Peter squirmed and twisted himself around, trying to pull his arm free. “Another argument for sleeping _naked_ , right?”

“I know.” He’d been cold, then, though, and had been glad to have the robe on. Now he just wanted free of it.

Finally, he was forced to roll out of the bed completely and sluff it off, allowing it to fall to the floor. Tony looked up at him, sleepily, his gaze tracking the boy’s body, approvingly, and he put his hand on the spot Peter had vacated.

“Come back to bed, honey. I’m not ready to get up, yet.”

Peter complied, willingly, and slid into his spot beside Tony, cuddling up against him and sliding a hand along the older man’s chest.

“Morning, daddy…”

Stark smiled, and hugged him tightly, pinning the hand between them.

“God, that’s sexy.”

The boy echoed the smile, and pressed a kiss against Tony’s neck since he couldn’t move, otherwise.

“How far does the daddy thing go, though?” he asked, uncertainly. “I mean; you call me baby – and I _like_ it – but we’re not talking about diapers and bottles or anything, are we?”

Tony chuckled.

“No. Unless that would be something that _you_ wanted to explore. People _do_ it. Baby powder, wipes, pacifiers; the works.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I agree.” He moved away enough that he could run his hand along Peter’s arm, and then his side, simply touching him. “I wouldn’t be above a little de-aging, though. Not during _sex_ – you’re perfect the way you are when we’re in bed – but if you were to crawl into my lap while we’re watching a movie or something, wanting to cuddle, I could live with that.”

“You’d like it?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t try to overthink it, okay, honey? We’ll play with it; let it evolve as we go. You find what’s comfortable for you, and I’ll find what works best for me, and we’ll just enjoy each other.” His hand slid to Peter’s penis, his palm sliding along the semi-erect rod and stroking him, tenderly. “I enjoy _you_ , all the time.”

Peter closed his eyes, taking a long shuddering breath as he gave himself up to the touch.

“That feels _good_ , daddy…”

Tony felt his cock twitch, eagerly, as a surge of excitement went through him. It sounded even better than he’d imagined.

“Yeah, baby? You like that?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to play with you, honey?”

“Please, daddy.”

“What do you want me to do, Peter?” Tony whispered, stroking the boy’s cock, which was now wide awake and starting to drool precum into the older man’s hand.

“You know.”

“I don’t, though, baby,” Tony said, gently, still stroking him, lightly. “What if I guess wrong? _Tell_ me, sweetheart. Let me know so I can do what my baby wants me to do to him.”

Peter tucked his face against Tony’s chest.

“Iwantyoutofuckmedaddy.”

It was said quickly, but Tony was getting adept at understanding the boy’s strung together sentences. He smiled and hugged him, proud of him for being able to say it at all, and not annoyed by how it had been delivered.

“My _brave_ boy,” Tony crooned. “So courageous. So smart. So wonderful.”

Peter shivered, practically writhing in pleasure at the praise, and Tony stilled him with a gentle touch.

“You don’t want me to suck you, baby?”

“No. Not right now. Please?”

“Of course.” He kissed him, slowly, running his hand to his own cock, which was throbbing and eager. “Show daddy how you want it, honey. Belly down, or belly up?”

The boy moved away from him and lay down on his stomach, opening his knees and raising his hips, presenting his ass to Tony and looking over his shoulder at him.

“Oh, god, Peter,” Tony murmured, rising up to his knees and slipping his body between the boy’s legs so he could slide his hands along his ass cheeks, kneading them and spreading them. “You’re so fucking beautiful. So _gorgeous_ , baby.”

Peter whimpered, pressing back against his touch, his hands curling in the bedding under them.

“Please…” he whined. “ _Please_ , daddy…”

Tony reached for the lube and slicked his fingers, before sliding one along the boy’s crack and pressing it against that puckered entrance that was begging to be filled. The boy shuddered as he invaded him, teasing, caressing and already starting to prepare him.

“Like that, baby?” Tony asked, reaching around and stroking Peter’s cock with his free hand, even as another finger joined the first.

“Yes.”

The boy was anxious, now, but Tony slowed his pace, wanting to allow it to draw out as much as possible, considering he was so hard he thought he was going to explode any minute, now. He used a third finger inside Peter, reaching for – and finding – his prostrate as his pace increased once more on the boy’s cock. The combined sensations sent Peter over the edge and he moaned as he came, smearing Tony’s hand and his own stomach with his cum, his hips jerking uncontrollably.

“So beautiful,” Stark whispered, still stroking him. “Daddy’s little boy…”

“Yes, daddy… _please_ …”

Tony let go of Peter and pulled his fingers from his ass, moving now to cover the boy, his bobbing, eager cock unerringly sliding along his crack and nudging his opening as Tony wrapped an arm around him to hold him in position and braced himself with the other hand. Then he ground his hips forward, his groan of satisfaction muffled by Peter’s shoulder as he sank himself into his boy’s tight body, claiming him once more.

“My baby,” he cooed, holding still for just a moment, savoring the words and the actions, equally. “Say it, Peter… please…”

“ _Daddy_ …” the boy moaned, turning his head so Tony could kiss him, which he did. “Daddy…”

His hips herked in response before he even knew what he was doing, and Tony gasped at the sensation and pulled back, moving forward, again.

“So perfect, honey,” he said, thrusting himself into the boy, repeatedly, driving him into the bedding and the mattress. Pinning him under his weight. “So beautiful. Just for daddy.”

Peter’s hand found his cock, stroking it in the same rhythm as Tony’s thrusts, and then increasing his pace as the billionaire’s words excited him further.

“Yes…”

He came, again, with a strangled cry, just as he felt Tony tense and erupt inside him with a final, hard thrust, warmth spreading through his body at the sensation of being filled in so many ways – and so perfectly.

Peter collapsed under Tony’s weight and the older man followed him down, his heaving body resting on the boy’s slender frame, holding him tightly as his hips jerked and his cock emptied inside him.

“Wow…”

Tony chuckled, weakly, at the amazement in Peter’s interjection.

“Yeah, wow.” He nuzzled the boy’s ear, sliding his tongue along the sensitive flesh. “Are you okay? Was I too rough?”

“No. It was good. It was _great_. You were great.”

“So were you, honey.” He looked down at the boy underneath him, and reluctantly slid out of him before gathering him in his arms. “So perfect. So beautiful.”

Peter made a happy noise and cuddled up against him, soaking up the praise and the sensation of being held in equal parts.

“Thank you, daddy.”

Tony chuckled.

“You are most welcome, baby.”


	52. 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just going to be a blank, guys. I messed up, or my laptop did, or the site did. Just ignore it until I fox it. Sorry

IGNORE THIS SPACE (ugh)


	53. 53

It was pretty comfortable to just lie in bed cuddled up to a warm body that wanted nothing more from you than to be allowed to cuddle up with you, as well, Tony had to admit. It felt good. _Wonderful_ , even. A hand slid along Peter’s side forced them out of bed, though; the ribs he felt reminding the billionaire that they didn’t want the boy skipping any meals.

He cajoled Peter out of bed with promises of more loving later, if he was good (and really, even if he _wasn’t_ , Tony was sure – he didn’t have that much willpower, after all) and got the two of them showered and sent the boy off to get dressed.

“Let’s go out to eat,” Tony suggested, when Peter returned, wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a sweatshirt over it. “I’m in the mood for buffet.”

“Whatever you want, daddy,” he said, agreeably.

The billionaire smiled, pulling him into his arms and hugging him.

“God, you’re _amazing_. Have I told you that, recently?”

“It’s been too long,” Peter replied, sliding his arms around his waist, clinging loosely to him.

Tony kissed him and then forced himself to pull away.

“Come on, honey. I’m starving, and _you_ need a haircut.”

“Are you getting one, too?”

“We’ll see.”

><><<<>> 

The restaurant was a favorite of Tony’s and the staff knew him well. They put him in an out of the way area that would keep autograph and selfie seekers away – for the most part – and was still close enough to the buffet that they didn’t have to hike too far.

“Hungry?” Tony asked as they were seated.

“Yeah. Do you come here a lot?”

“Sometimes. I like it; the food’s good and the staff doesn’t gawk.”

“Do you prefer to eat out, or make your own at home?”

“Depends on what I’m in the mood for,” Tony admitted. “Today I want a variety, and it’s easier to come here and not make that much food just for the two of us. If I just wanted a piece of chicken, or something, then it would be worth staying home for. We’re out and about, anyway, today, so we might as well eat out, too. Makes sense?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “The daddy thing’s off the table in public?”

That made the billionaire smile, too, and his eyes gleamed with a mixture of humor and lust.

“If you get an urge to call me that, by all means, do it. I will warn you, _now_ , that you can expect me to pull you into a closet somewhere and have my way with you, if you do.”

Peter chuckled.

“I suppose I’ll have to control myself, then.”

“Only in _public_. When we’re at home, you call me whatever you _want_. Understood?”

“Yes.”

They both ate well. Not surprisingly after the evening that they’d had, of course. Peter went back four times for one thing or another, Tony noticed with approval and just a little satisfaction. Approval that he’d gain weight back that much quicker the more he ate, and satisfaction that it was almost certainly his attentions that were driving the boy’s appetite that morning.

If that’s what it took to make sure he was hungry, he’d fuck Peter as much as the boy wanted. And then turn him over and go, again.

When they were done eating – and Tony sent Peter back for another piece of cake just to make sure he was properly stuffed – they left the restaurant and went to the private spa where Tony always got his hair cut, his manicures and his massages. The staff were great, and he smiled as he watched them take Peter in hand and not only give him a manicure – which made the boy blush for some reason, but also the much-needed haircut.

“How much are we taking off?” the stylist asked Tony and Peter.

The man was one of the nicest guys Tony had ever met; flamboyantly homosexual and willing to flirt with anything with a heartbeat – including one woman’s Yorkie, Tony saw, once.

“Just make him look handsome,” the billionaire said.

“We’re keeping these beautiful curls, though, right?” he’d asked, raking his fingers through Peter’s hair almost indecently.

“Not _all_ of them.”

The man smiled, winking outrageously at Tony as he made a fist in Peter’s hair.

“Enough to _hold onto_?”

Tony smirked, amused.

“Just cut his _hair_ , William. Stop digging for gossip.”

That had triggered a cascade of amused laughter, and the boy found himself on the receiving end of his first-ever four-hundred-dollar haircut.

When the haircut was finished to Tony’s satisfaction a pair of masseuses arrived; sexy and very professional.

“Massages?” one of the women asked Tony, who shook his head, deciding that Peter would have spontaneously combusted if they’d asked him to take his shirt off – much less his pants – in front of any of the women.

“Just the haircut, today, I think.”

He took his still blushing boy out to the car, running his hand through the new haircut.

“Well?” Peter asked.

“You look great, honey.”

Which meant Peter was smiling, pleased, when he got into the car and buckled up.

“Thanks, daddy,” he said, sincerely. “I feel good.”

Tony smiled.

“Anything else you want while we’re out? Anything that my baby needs?”

“Not that I know of,” Peter told him.

He wouldn’t know what he needed, anyway. He hadn’t even thought of a _haircut_ , really, until Tony pointed it out.

“We’re going to stop at the grocery store, and then we’re going home,” Tony told him. “I’m tired of sharing you with everyone else.” He reached out and took Peter’s hand, resting it on his thigh, and then starting the car. “Keep your hand right _there_ , all right?”

“Okay.”

Like _that_ was a hardship.

><><><<>>> 

Peter probably had more fun than was normal at the store. Part of it was certainly because he hadn’t had the money to do real grocery shopping in months – and no place to cook any food that he may have purchased if he had. The other part was simply watching Tony shop.

It had started a little rough. They were just parking the car when Tony asked Peter what he wanted for dinner. The boy had shrugged, saying he didn’t have any preference, and the older man had rolled his eyes, amused, and told him to pick something. Peter’s experience with food was a lot different than Tony’s, and feeling just a little edge of uncertainty, he’d suggested mac and cheese and hot dogs.

_“Seriously?”_

The realization of just how far apart they were, socially, suddenly hit Peter from out of nowhere, and he actually felt the sting of tears, knowing he’d made himself look ridiculous. As if it hadn’t been proved to him at the spa or even the restaurant. He turned his head, so Tony wouldn’t notice. That’s what he got for trying to open his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Whatever you want is fine.”

Tony did notice, immediately, of course, and mentally kicked himself. Here he was trying to get the boy to articulate his needs and wants, and he’d just automatically mocked him. True, it had been in amusement – at least it had for Tony – but he knew right away that Peter didn’t see it that way, and that he’d probably undone every tiny step forward that the boy had made.

“Oh, honey, I’m _sorry_ ,” he said, sincerely, cupping Peter’s chin and turning his head back toward him to make him meet his gaze. Peter’s beautiful brown eyes were bright with unshed tears, and Tony was glad for tinted windows as he leaned over and kissed each one, tenderly, and then had kissed Peter’s lips. “Macaroni and cheese, it is,” he crooned. “ _With_ hotdogs.”

“You don’t have to…” the boy said, trying to look away, but held in Tony’s grip, and in his loving, adoring, regard. “It was just the first thing that came to my mind.”

“Then it’s what you _wanted_ ,” the billionaire pointed out. “And I shouldn’t have teased you, knowing how difficult it was for you to put yourself out there. Forgive me?”

“Yes.”

Tony closed his eyes, pressing his cheek against Peter’s.

“Say it, honey… _please_? I need to hear it.”

“It’s okay, daddy…”

He’d had to hold Peter for a long moment after that. Not because the boy needed _comforting_ , but Tony wasn’t going to walk through the grocery store the way his slacks were suddenly bulging in the front, and tinted windows or not, he wasn’t going to have Peter going down on him in the car in the middle of a parking lot just because _he’d_ been stupid.

Aside from that hiccup, though. It _was_ fun for Peter.

They walked through the doors of the grocery store and Tony had put him in charge of pushing the grocery cart. The boy trailed behind the older man, watching as he navigated the produce section with as much intensity as he did everything else; testing each piece of fruit or vegetable that he picked up. He double-checked with Peter on what he liked and didn’t like, stayed away from the strawberries completely, and chose enough produce to last them a few days, grumbling because Peter informed him that he didn’t really care for _bananas_ , either.

They they’d gone through the dry foods aisles, and Tony had sifted through items there with almost as much intensity as he’d done his produce shopping. Peter didn’t know what he was looking at when he examined each box, bag or can, but more often than not, something was put back on the shelf rather than into the cart. The meat department was next, and Tony had had Peter pick out what kind of cuts of meat they’d have for dinner the next few evenings.

The boy had quailed at the thought of getting a lobster. Not because he didn’t like it – he’d never had it – but they were _alive_ , and he looked like he was going to cry when Tony told him how they were prepared.

“No lobster,” the billionaire had promised him with another of those tender smiles. “Ever.”

It was obvious to Peter that Tony loved to grocery shop, though, and it was fun for the boy to see him enjoy himself like that.

>>>>><<<<><<<> 

“You’re sure you can carry all that?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Don’t drop anything.”

“I’ve got it.”

“We could make two trips.”

“No need to. _Really_.”

Peter was loaded down with grocery bags, but he could have easily carried twice what he had in his arms. He just would have needed longer arms to be able to hold onto them. He did have to let Tony guide him out of the elevator and into the kitchen where he set everything on the kitchen island, and smiled at the copious amount of food in front of them.

“You’re not hungry, yet, are you?” Tony asked him, brushing his new haircut, admiringly.

“No. Not even close.”

“I’m going to put these away. Go find us something to watch. Movie. TV. I don’t care what.”

“Okay.”

He went into the living room and sat on the sofa, listening to Tony hum to himself as he put the groceries where they belonged, and then vanished into his bedroom for a few minutes, before coming out dressed in sweats and a t-shirt and settling beside him on the sofa.

“What did you find?” he asked, sliding his hand behind the boy to hold him, comfortably.

“Movie? The Mummy?”

“That’s fine, honey.”

Peter set the remote on the coffee table and slid his shoes off, and then climbed into Tony’s lap, silently asking to be held.

“It’s okay, daddy?” he asked, feeling Tony put his arms around him.

“Yes, baby. I told you; _any_ time you wanted. Can we take off the _sweatshirt_ , though? I’ll keep you warm.”

He moved just enough to allow Tony to pull it off, and then returned to his previous position against the older man’s chest, guiding Tony’s hand to his lap, but not saying a word.

Stark kissed his cheek, and gently caressed the slight swelling in the front of Peter’s jeans with that hand, and drew a throw blanket over the boy’s shoulders to keep him from getting cold.

Then they settled in to watch the movie and spend some quality time, just the two of them.


	54. 54

“Is your leg numb?” Peter asked when the movie was over.

Tony chuckled, brushing a kiss against the boy's temple.

“You don’t _weigh_ enough to cut off circulation, honey. How about a change of position, though, if we watch another?”

“You’ll watch another? You don’t have something else you’d rather be doing?”

“No. I’m pretty happy right where I am.”

He let go of the boy, allowing him to decide how he wanted to sit, next – or if he wanted to get off of his lap, completely – and was pleased when Peter straddled his thighs and pressed against him, belly to belly, with his cheek resting on his shoulder. He could feel the swelling in Peter’s pants; proof that Tony had been caressing him throughout the movie, but he wasn’t desperately aroused, and neither was Tony.

It was pleasant.

“Are you alright like this, baby?”

“Yes.” Peter cuddled against him, his hands between their bodies, trusting Tony to hold him steady. “I just like being held.”

“My _precious_ boy,” Tony crooned, bringing the blanket up over Peter’s shoulders, again. “We’ll watch another and then I’ll start dinner.”

“Okay.”

Peter closed his eyes, body relaxing completely in the billionaire’s embrace, and he was dozing before FRIDAY even started the sequel to the first movie.

Tony wasn’t too surprised; Peter had slept a few hours, off and on, the night before, but he was still getting over being sick – even though he was doing well. He _needed_ the sleep. Rather than move him and put him to bed, or shift him to lower him to the sofa to allow him to sleep there, the billionaire simple cradled his pliant body, shifting him to a slightly more comfortable position.

Peter mumbled something Tony couldn’t understand and whimpered in his ear, but Tony shushed him, gentling him with a touch and a loving kiss. A moment later, the boy was still, again, and Tony closed his eyes; just enjoying the position _and_ the company.

><><<<<<>>> 

It was a soft conversation that woke him some time later. Tony’s voice near his ear, talking to someone. He opened his eyes and raised his head from the older man’s shoulder, looking around, sleepily, for whoever he was talking to. The room was empty except for the two of them, and Tony held up the phone in his hand, and pressed a finger against his lips, silently telling him to be quiet for a moment.

Peter sighed, and allowed his head to drop back to the muscular shoulder, faintly able to hear that the person on the other end of the call was a woman, but unable to understand what she was saying.

Tony’s free hand caressed his back, idly, sliding under his shirt and running along his spine, and the older man looked at him and brushed a kiss against his lips, tenderly, before responding to the conversation.

“I can definitely understand how that would work, Pepper. Go ahead and sign off on it if you think it’s the way to go…”

He winked at Peter, who shifted a little, but held himself still, shivering a little when the blanket fell off his shoulders. Tony didn’t help when he slid his tongue along the boy’s jawline, smiling when Peter responded by lifting his head and providing more access to that tender skin.

“Alright,” Tony said. “We will see you first thing in the morning. No. I won’t be late.”

He ended the call and tossed the phone to the sofa beside them, and turned his full attention to the boy in his lap.

“Did you sleep well, honey?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to go start dinner, or it’s going to be after bedtime before we’re ready to eat. Let me up, alright?”

“Do I _have_ to?” he asked, comfortable. “I want to be held, daddy.”

Tony chuckled; hugging him close for a moment to reward him for telling him what he wanted – _and_ calling him _daddy_ , which most of the time would get him whatever he asked for, although Peter might not realize it, yet. He wasn’t going to let the boy get in the way of his own recovery, though. Dinner came first.

“You _do_ ,” he confirmed, bringing his hand down between them to caress the front of Peter’s jeans and making a pleased noise when he felt the soft swelling twitch on the other side of the fabric. “Come keep me company.”

Peter grumbled, but did as he was told, climbing off Tony, and then off the couch, giving the older man a chance to regain his feet. They both stretched; muscles stiff from being in the same position for so long.

“Was that work?” the boy asked as they walked into the kitchen.

Peter sat at the island, but Tony went around to the other side.

“It _was_. Pepper has been working on this merger I want so badly, and she’s pretty sure that the conditions are met for both sides.”

“That’s good?”

“Yeah. It should be. It’s a good deal for both companies. _We_ get access to some of the tech they’re working on, and _they_ get the financial backing that only Stark Industries can provide.” He pulled out a large pot and filled it with water, setting it on the stove to start boiling. “She’s been looking into options for _you_ , too,” Tony told him.

“She knows about me?”

“Yes. Of _course_ she does.” He smiled, to reassure him. “She’s the one that convinced the judge to give me temporary protective custody of you. And she has the legal knowledge to go through the system looking for the best possible choices for you.”

Peter felt a little nervous at that, wondering what it would be. _He_ was still having visions of foster homes and orphanages – and the movie about Oliver Twist that he’d seen many years before came to mind.

“Do you know if she found anything?” he asked, unable to hide that uncertainty.

“She wants to go over them with us. _Tomorrow morning_. What do you think?”

He must have paled, because Tony suddenly poured him a glass of water and handed it across the island to him.

“So soon?”

“It’s just _options_ , honey,” Tony assured him. “We need to know your choices are so you can have the best outcome. We’re not going to do anything you don’t like. Right?”

“What if the CPS people try to take me away?”

“They can’t. Only a judge can allow them to do that, and Pepper knows a lot of judges.”

“All of them?”

“No. But most.” He reached over and brushed his fingertips against Peter’s cheek. “You don’t have to come with me. If you want, I’ll have Happy drive you out to the compound and you can stay there, instead.”

Without him, though. Peter shook his head.

“I’ll go with you.”

He needed to know was going to happen, and he didn’t handle worry very well. Chances were, he’d end up at the compound worrying himself into a panic attack or something.

Tony looked pleased.

“That’s my brave boy,” he said, approvingly, making Peter blush with happiness at the praise. “We’ll go to the tower in the morning, then, and when we’re done, if my merger has _gone through_ , we’ll go to the compound and have lunch with some of the others to celebrate.”

“And if it _didn’t_?”

The billionaire scowled, but he shrugged.

“Then we’ll go to the compound to have lunch with the others so they can listen to me bitch about it.”

Peter smiled at that. The way he said it made the boy think that it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Okay.”

Tony walked around to Peter’s side of the island, and slid his hand along the boy’s chest. Then he bent and kissed him.

“Either way we’ll get a good lunch out of it.” He reached for the button on Peter’s jeans, and unfastened them. “It’s going to take a while for the water to boil for the macaroni. Is there anything I can do for my baby while we’re waiting?”

Peter felt a hitch in his breath, and he looked at Tony, hopeful and worried at the same time. The billionaire smiled, understandingly, well aware that yes, there was something he wanted, but knowing the same issue was going to come up. He moved right up against where Peter was standing, and slid his hand into the boy’s jeans, under his boxers, caressing the throbbing and eager flesh he found there.

_“Daddy…”_ Peter whimpered.

“I’m going to help you, honey…” he whispered. “Close your eyes. Pretend it’s dark, and tell me what you want…”

He did what he was told, resting his hand against Tony’s chest, and then following with his head, burying his face into the shirt against the arc reactor.

“Please…”

“Say it, baby. You can do it. You’re so _brave_.”

“Suckme.”

“So brave…” Tony murmured, going to his knees and pulling the boy’s jeans and boxers down, as well, freeing his cock, which was already hard and eager. Tony slid his fingers along the shaft. “So _beautiful_ , baby.”

Peter moaned when Tony took him in his mouth, sliding his hands to the older man’s head, his fingers holding him, tightly, as he began sucking on him. Tony swallowed him down into his throat, humming and sending vibrations through his entire being, which elicited a groan that Peter couldn’t bite back – and no reason to try to.

“Yes, daddy…”

His hips started moving in time with Tony’s head bobbing, and the older man’s hand went to his testicles to knead them and roll them in his fingers. Then he pulled back almost completely, and sucked on just the head, while stroking the shaft before moving to take him into his throat, again.

He only repeated the motion a couple of times before Peter’s climax built and then began crashing over him, sending shock waves of pleasure through his body, causing his balls to tighten in Tony’s hand and his hips to jerk forward, forcing his hot cum into the older man’s mouth, where  Tony slurped and sucked it down, noisily, making little sounds of approval.

His knees faltered and he sat down on the barstool, with his cock still in Tony’s mouth, and the billionaire chuckled, throatily, taking a final suck on the tip before pulling off of the boy and claiming his mouth for a kiss. Peter opened his lips to Tony’s tongue, tasting himself and the unique flavor of his daddy.

Tony hugged him, close, and then broke off.

“Good job, baby. I’m _so proud_ of you.”

The boy blushed with pride.

“Thank you.”

Tony pulled his jeans back up and simply hooked the button.

“Why don’t you go change into pajamas? We’re not going anywhere else this evening, and I already know who I want for dessert.”

“Okay.”

Knees still a little wobbly, Peter got up and headed into the bedroom. Stark watched him go, a soft smile on his lips and his expression filled with a hunger that had nothing to do with macaroni and cheese and hotdogs.


	55. 55

By the time Peter returned to the kitchen, wearing flannel pajama bottoms, socks and his reclaimed sweatshirt, Tony had the macaroni boiling and almost finished. He greeted the boy with an approving smile, and asked him how many hotdogs he wanted to go with his macaroni and cheese and Peter had been obliged to let him know that the hotdogs were supposed to be chopped up and mixed with the main dish, not eaten separately.

The billionaire had rolled his eyes, good-naturedly, at that information and had set Peter to chopping up the hotdogs, while he grated three kinds of cheese and pulled out a casserole dish. Then, he’d mixed everything together with the pasta, covered it up and set it in the oven to finish letting it all melt together for a short time.

“What are you making, now?” Peter asked.

 _He_ was chopping lettuce and tomatoes into pieces for a salad to go with their meal. It wasn’t pretty, but it was the first step in him learning to cook, and Tony was taking that seriously. While he did that, the billionaire was pulling out a mixer and flour and ingredients that Peter normally associated with _baking_ , not cooking.

“I thought you might want some cookies – for dessert.”

“You’re going to bake cookies?”

“You don’t like them?”

“No. I mean, yeah. Of _course_.” Who didn’t like _cookies_? “Why didn’t we just get some at the store? It would have been easier, right?”

“But not as _good_. It doesn’t take long, and they taste better when they’re homemade.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Chocolate chip? Peanut butter? Oatmeal raison?”

“Chocolate chip.”

“Good choice.” He gestured for Peter to pay attention to what he was doing – especially since he had a knife in his hand. “We won’t actually bake them until we’re done with dinner, of course. But the dough should rest, anyway. It’ll give you a good treat before bed.”

“You’re not having any?”

“Maybe. But I intend to have my treat _in_ bed.”

The boy blushed, responding to the lust and love he saw in the older man’s expression, and he smiled, amazed that it was all for him.

He turned his attention back to the chopping, but was watching what Tony was doing, too, and frowned when he finished mixing all the ingredients, added the chocolate chips and then started to cover the bowl with cellophane to let it sit until baking.

“Aren't you going to try it?”

“It’s _raw_ , honey. You don’t eat raw cookie dough.”

“Sure you do. It’s almost _better_ that way. May would let me lick the beaters when she made cookies. She and Ben shared the bowl.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get salmonella.”

“ _Please_ , daddy?”

Tony groaned, but it was purely mental. Those eyes were irresistible when his boy turned them on him full force like that. Add the softly uttered _daddy_ , and there was nothing he could do. He’d eat cookie dough and get salmonella a dozen times for the boy.

He opened the drawer and pulled out a spoon.

“Not much, though, okay? I don’t want you to spoil your dinner.” Peter nodded, and Tony scooped out a glob of the dough, and then walked around to the other side of the island, where the boy was standing and held the spoon against his lips. “Open up, baby.”

He did as he was told and the boy closed his eyes in bliss at the taste, and Tony about came in his pants at the expression on his face.

“That’s _good_ , daddy,” Peter told him, opening his eyes, again. “Thank you.”

Tony kissed him, tasting cookie dough and Peter, and then pulled away.

“FRIDAY? How long until the symptoms for salmonella start showing?”

_“Six to seventy-two hours.”_

Tony kissed Peter, again.

“We'll see how you feel in six to seventy-two hours,” he told his baby. “ _Then_ you can thank me.”

The boy grinned.

“I’ll be fine.”

><<<><>> 

Dinner was great. Not surprising, though, since Peter already knew Tony could cook. He shouldn’t have been too shocked that the billionaire could make something as humble as macaroni and cheese and hotdogs into some kind of culinary masterpiece, but he _had_.

They sat at the table and ate like a real family, with Peter asking about the merger that Tony wanted. It was important to him, and that made it important to the boy, as well. When they were done eating, Tony pulled out a couple of cookie sheets and some parchment paper to avoid any mess and started spooning dough onto them, while Peter cleared the dishes and rinsed them to put them in the dishwasher.

The first set had gone into the oven and were beginning to make the entire apartment smell wonderful when FRIDAY suddenly spoke up.

_“Unknown visitor at the elevator.”_

“What?” Stark looked at his watch. “Who’s coming by at 8 o’clock on a Sunday?”

_“Unknown.”_

A display at the island lowered, and turned on and Peter and Tony both saw Rachelle Miller in the security camera footage.

“What the hell…?”

Peter paled.

“What do you think she’s doing here?” he asked, suddenly afraid.

“One way to find out.” He swiped the display. “Can I help you?”

She looked around at what had been a disembodied voice.

_“It’s Rachelle Miller from Child Protection services, Mr. Stark. I’m here to do my inspection.”_

“Are you aware that it’s 8 o’clock?”

_“May I come up, please?”_

He rolled his eyes.

“FRIDAY, let her in.” The elevator doors opened on the ground floor, and the video showed her vanishing into it. Tony looked at Peter. “Don’t be afraid, honey. She can’t do anything to you. Sit down.”

He looked ready to faint.

Peter was seating himself on a barstool when the elevator opened and the CPS agent walked out, looking around. She was dressed casually and carrying a bag, and walked over to join them in the kitchen.

“Please excuse my interruption,” she said, giving them both a somewhat forced smile.

“Why are you here on a _Sunday_?” Tony asked, not smiling at all.

“The state requires at least one non-scheduled wellness check of any children newly placed into custody, and an inspection of the domicile to ensure that basic needs can be provided to that child. I’m here to take care of that.”

Stark scowled.

“Fine. What do you need?”

She set her bag on the counter, just as the oven beeped. Tony went back around and pulled the cookies from the oven, setting them on the stovetop in the island, warning both of them that it was hot, before putting the next cookie sheet into the oven and restarting the timer.

Miller looked at Peter, pulling a clipboard and pen from her bag.

“You’re looking very well, Peter,” she said. “How do you _feel_?”

“Fine.”

His answer was guarded, but she wasn’t surprised. She was well aware that her job could frighten youngsters, after all.

“Have you eaten today?”

Since they were still cleaning up the remains of their dinner, the answer was obvious, but Peter nodded.

“Just had dinner.”

“Were you fed breakfast?”

“We had brunch at a buffet.”

“Very good. Your clothes appear to be in good condition. Are you warm enough? Do you have a place to sleep?”

“Yes.”

She looked at Tony, her expression approving.

“He looks _much_ better than he did, Mr. Stark. It’s clear you’re taking good care of him.”

Tony nodded, not ready to be friends, but accepting the comment at face value.

“He’s pretty easy to handle.”

“Now I need to inspect your home.” She shrugged. “A formality, in _your_ case, but required.”

“What do you need?”

She consulted her clipboard.

“An adequate source of water supply.”

“FRIDAY. Turn on the kitchen sink.”

A moment later the faucet in the sink came on, and Tony looked at Peter, who understood the look.

“Oh. Um. FRIDAY, turn off the kitchen sink, please.”

It turned off.

Miller smirked at the display, but made a note on her clipboard.

“Does he have his own bed?”

Tony nodded.

“Watch the cookies, Peter,” he said, moving to the other side of the island. “He has the guest room,” the billionaire told the woman, walking her over to it, and opening the door. “He has his own bathroom – we got him all the toiletries he needs; soap, shampoo, toothbrush. Bought him warmer clothes and I took him to get a haircut this morning.”

She nodded, looking around, once more.

“Then I’ve seen everything that I need to see. I do apologize for interrupting, but like I said, we’re required to check.”

“Right. Need anything else?” he asked as they walked back to the kitchen so she could put her clipboard away and get her bag.

“No. Thank you.” She handed Peter her card. “If you need anything, Peter. Please, call. Any time.”

“I’m good,” the boy assured her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Stark walked her to the door.

“How many of these unscheduled visits can we expect?” he asked, softly. “I _get_ that you’re doing your job, but he’s on edge enough as it is.”

“Yes, I can see. And I saw it the first time we met, too. This is it. You’re doing a fine job of taking care of him, and that’s what my report will say.”

“Thank you.”

She left, and Tony waited until FRIDAY reported that she was out of the elevator and heading to her car. Then he turned back to the kitchen in time to hear the oven timer buzz, again. Peter got up and grabbed a potholder and took this batch out, setting it down before closing the oven door.

Tony met him at the oven, reached over him and turned the appliance off.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

He looked pale and frightened, though, Tony saw. He put his arms around him, pulling him into an embrace.

“It was a normal check,” he assured the boy, tucking his head under his chin. He could feel Peter trembling. “She said you look good and everything is fine.”

“Okay.”

“My beautiful boy. So amazing. So wonderfully brave.”

If he ever needed the bolstering that Tony’s words could give him, now was definitely the time, Stark knew. Peter held him close, but the embrace lost some of its desperation.

“That was _scary_ ,” he said, finally.

“Yeah. I know, honey.” Tony pulled back enough to kiss him, softly, and then he smiled, his eyes meeting those beautiful brown ones. “But I know just the thing to make my baby less frightened.”

“What?”

“Fresh-baked cookies. And a glass of milk.”

Peter smiled, amused – which was a much better look on him, Tony decided.

“Milk and cookies? _Really_?”

“Why not?”

“Are you going to have some?”

“I’ll have mine with coffee, but, yes.”

The boy hugged him, again.

“Okay, daddy. Milk and cookies.”

“And then bed, I think. We don’t want to stay up too late. Pepper will skin me if we’re late tomorrow.”

“You’re her boss, though?”

“When she _remembers_ it, yes.” He pulled away, and guided his boy to the table. “Sit down, honey. I’ll get you some milk.”


	56. 56

The cookies were good.

Fresh out of the oven and warm. _Perfect_. Tony watched Peter as the boy made his way through half a dozen of them and a glass of milk, approving the appetite and the way he lost the worried look in his expression as they discussed some of the homework that Peter had left on the far end of the table. Tony pretty much wanted to discuss anything that didn’t have to do with surprise inspections or CPS, to allow Peter a chance to settle back down.

By the time he was finished with his coffee and Peter was done with his snack, the boy wasn’t quite so pale, and was able to smile at a couple of Tony’s less than great jokes. He was still jumpy, though, and Tony hadn’t been able to get him completely calmed down.

“Bedtime, honey,” he finally said, giving up on doing it with words alone. He stood up and leaned over to press a kiss against the boy's forehead. “Yeah?”

“Okay.”

“Go brush your teeth and get ready. I’m going to clear these dishes and put the leftovers away.”

Peter nodded and got up, as well, vanishing into his bedroom, and leaving Tony to take care of the remaining cookies and load the dishwasher.

He didn’t have to double check the locks and windows or the door to the balcony. Those were all monitored by FRIDAY, after all. It was simply a matter of telling the AI to turn down the lights for the night, and going into his bedroom. Peter was still in his room, but by the time Stark came out of his bathroom, ready for bed, the boy was in his bed, blankets drawn up to his chin and big, brown eyes watching as he walked over.

Tony undressed, his eyes never leaving Peter.

“How do you feel, baby?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “ _Edgy_?”

“Yeah. I can tell.” He slid under the blankets, gathering Peter into his arms, and pressing a kiss against his temple.

“Daddy…” the boy pressed his face into Tony’s chest.

“Shhh, baby boy. I’m going to just hold you for a while, okay? We’ll see if we can get you to a reset point from earlier.”

“Okay.”

Tony ran his fingers gently through Peter’s newly shorn hair, stopping _– just once_ – to see if it _was_ long enough to take a handful. He was close enough to feel how tense Peter was; his entire body was hyper alert, it seemed, but the billionaire knew it wasn’t anything that _he’d_ done. It was the unexpected visit, tearing a freshly built scab off a gaping, raw, wound.

“If my merger goes through and I get that Nanotech, I’m going to incorporate it into my suit,” he murmured into Peter’s ear. The world’s nerdiest pillow talk, but nothing wrong with that, right? His baby was _listening_ , and was focusing on him, instead of the scare that he’d had. “I’ll figure out how to incorporate it with FRIDAY, and add in a mental aspect, somehow, and then I’ll be able to activate the suit with a thought. A piece of it here or there, or the whole thing all at once.”

“What do you do with the Nanobots when they’re not activated?” he asked, his voice muffled by Tony’s chest.

“I haven’t quite figured that out – _yet_ ,” Tony admitted. “One of the reasons I want this merger to go through.”

“What will you do if it falls through?”

“Start figuring it out on my own.” Tony’s fingers stilled for just a moment while his mind went through the possible scenarios, but a minute motion from the boy in his arms drew his attention from the problem back to what was more important.

“ _I_ could help you…” Peter suggested, softly, as if he wasn’t sure how the offer would be accepted.

“You’d _help_?”

“Yes. I mean, you know… if you _wanted_ help. I could read up on it, or something, first. Make sure I knew what it was about, for sure, and then you wouldn’t have to try and figure it out, alone.”

He smiled, even though Peter couldn’t see it, and brushed another tender kiss against his temple.

“Thank you, baby,” he murmured. “I’m going to take you up on that, you know. Even if the merger goes through. It’ll be fun, being in the workroom with you.”

He could feel the tension was draining out of the boy as they were speaking, which was the whole idea, of course.

“I’d like that,” Peter assured him.

“Yeah?” Tony pulled back, just enough to look at his beautiful eyes. They were calmer, now, he could see – even in the muted light of the room. He smiled at Peter, not aware of the look of love that he was giving the boy just then, but seeing the reaction, and forced to pull away – _just a little_ – from the sudden wellspring of love that bubbled up inside him. “You can’t _name_ them, though. The Nanobots, I mean. No making them pets. Got it?”

“Yes, daddy.”

He smiled, recognizing that the boy was feeling better, now.

“Good.” He hugged him, again, and then turned him in his arms, rolling him so that Peter’s back was to his front, but bringing his arms tightly around him to make sure he understood that he wasn’t being pushed away. Tony’s hand went to Peter’s hip and pulled him back against him, the boy’s rear now tucked perfectly against his pelvis. He was aching, now, and his hips were moving, almost imperceptibly, arousing him as he felt Peter’s skin against his cock. “If you _want_ a pet, we’ll think of something.”

“I’ll think about it,” Peter told him, sliding a hand along Tony’s arm, feeling the sudden hardness against his rear. He pressed back against it. Against Tony’s hard body. “Daddy…”

“Shhh, honey… _slowly_ …”

Tony’s hand came down between them, sliding along the slit at the top of his cock, harvesting the precum that was smearing the boy and then sliding his finger along Peter’s crack, finding his tiny hole and teasing it.

“Yes…”

“Like that, baby boy?” Tony asked, craning his neck so he could kiss Peter as he started preparing him, more precum working to make his invasion easier. “You’re so beautiful, Peter. “So tight. So delicious.”

Peter moved against the fingers that were stretching him, making little sounds of pleasure that were only adding to Tony’s excitement.

“Please, daddy. Yes…”

He reached behind him, a hand finding Tony’s hip to try and bring him closer to him – if it was at all possible.

The older man pulled his fingers out spitting on them and rubbing it on his cock before he lifted Peter’s leg and positioned the boy just so, pressing the head of his cock against that perfect ass.

“Ask me for it, honey,” Tony murmured, almost desperately. “Beg for daddy to fill you up…”

"Please, daddy,” Peter moaned. “I need it. Please. Put it in me. Fill your little boy.”

He groaned and held Peter’s hip, keeping him in place while he pressed against him, gentle despite his lust, and the boy moved back against him, forcing him in when his body resisted. Tony hilted inside Peter with a gasp of pleasure and he rested his face on the boy’s arm, kissing his elbow and licking a trail up to his shoulder.

“That’s my baby. Right there.”

Peter whined, moving his hips.

“ _More_ , daddy.”

“Shh… who’s in charge, honey?”

“ _You_ are, daddy,” Peter whimpered, still wriggling against him. “You’re in charge. I _need_ it, though. Make me feel good.”

“Oh, fuck…”

The boy was so _good_. He probably didn’t even realize it, Tony decided, as he began moving against his acquiescent body, pushing himself slowly in, and then drawing himself out with almost painful slowness to start, and then a little faster, a little _harder_ , once Peter caught his rhythm and became accustomed to the feeling of him.

All his. Just for him.

He groaned, biting Peter’s shoulder with his teeth, only just remembering at the last moment to curl his lips over them to protect the unblemished skin, and started thrusting harder. His breath was coming in gasps, now, as Peter begged him to fill him. Begged him not to stop. Moved back against each thrust to take that much more of him with each movement, his voice a siren call that the billionaire couldn’t resist. And didn’t bother trying to.

“Yes, baby,” Tony groaned, his climax rushing up on him and hitting with exquisite agony, a final hard motion burying him deep as he unloaded inside Peter. “Shit…” his body was trying to turn inside out, it felt so good, and he clung to the boy, anchoring himself to the real world as his mind went elsewhere for just a perfect moment of bliss.

Peter made an approving noise from somewhere in the dark and Tony opened his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. Kissing that shoulder a little less urgently, now. He rutted his hips a couple more times, feeling his cum making the motion even easier, now, than it had been, and then he allowed himself to slide out and he slid his hand around Peter’s hip to find his hard cock.

“No, daddy…” Peter whispered, pulling himself away from the touch, and then rolling in Tony’s embrace until he was facing him, again, and looking up at him, his eyes even darker – and not just because of the lack of that much light. “I’m okay.”

“But you’re _hard_ , baby,” Tony objected, finding him and stroking him, gently.

He _was_ hard. Throbbing eagerly in his hand.

The boy pressed closer, pinning Tony’s hand, stopping him.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, kissing the older man’s chest. “It feels _good_. This time can just be about you.”

He could have argued, of course. Could have exerted his dominance over the boy – and he was well aware that it existed. Peter _was_ his, after all. But he didn’t. Because while he _was_ dominant, Peter owned Tony just as much – if not _more_ – than the billionaire owned him. If he didn’t want to do anything but cuddle, then Tony wasn’t going to do anything more than that.

“Alright, honey.” He moved his hand and used it to slide his fingers along the boy’s back, touching him, feeling that pleasant lassitude coming over him. “You’re okay?”

Peter nodded, tucking himself under Tony’s chin and gently caressing his side.

“Yes, daddy. Go to sleep.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he let his baby lull him to sleep.


	57. 57

“Hey, Happy.”

“Peter. How are you doing?”

“Good, thanks.”

“You _look_ good.” He did, too. “Going to work with the bossman?”

The boy smiled.

“Yeah. Want a cookie?”

“Thanks.”

Happy smirked at Tony, who rolled his eyes as he followed the boy into the back of the car. The driver closed the door and then shoved the cookie in his mouth as he went around and got behind the wheel.

Breakfast of champions.

Tony smiled at the boy; he looked so happy. It probably didn’t hurt that he’d woken Peter that morning with his head in his lap, taking care of his morning wood before the boy had even been aware it was there. Peter had climaxed almost before he realized what was going on, and Tony had simply kissed him, tenderly, told him good morning, and then went back to the boy’s cock and teased, licked and sucked until he’d unloaded once more.

That was the way to start a day.

Then it had been a shower; with a lot of kissing and caressing as they washed each other. Tony was sorely tempted to press his baby up against the tile and take him, just because Peter was so willing, so accessible and so fucking _delicious_ , but they had to be at the tower on time, and if he took the time to make love to Peter properly, they’d have had to skip breakfast.

Which wasn’t an option, of course.

They had waffles. With blueberries and whipped cream. Normally, for Tony, it would have been _strawberries_ , but that wasn’t happening. He had blueberries as well – and a banana. Peter had pointed out that just because he couldn’t have strawberries, it didn’t mean Tony couldn’t, but since Tony didn’t know how serious the allergy was, he wasn’t willing to even have them in the apartment.

He didn’t mind making the adjustment, he told the boy. And he meant it. Peter was worth it.

They’d had breakfast, cleaned the kitchen, and then they’d packed up the remaining cookies and headed down to meet Happy.

“Have I mentioned how beautiful you are?” Tony asked the boy as the car pulled out into traffic. He was running his hand through Peter's hair, ostensibly straightening it, but really just wanting to touch him.

Peter blushed, happily, his porcelain cheeks reddening, which only made him more adorable as far as Tony was concerned.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”

Peter smiled, and leaned into Tony’s side. He would have crawled into his lap, but he didn’t want to wrinkle the expensive suit he was wearing. The boy could get away with jeans and a sweatshirt, but Tony was expected to look the part when he went to work.

The billionaire put his arm around Peter, holding him with one arm, and flipping through his phone with the other. Peter didn’t try to carry on a conversation since he didn’t want to bother him, but he didn’t really need to.  Tony’s hand was sifting through his hair, or caressing the back of his neck, making sure Peter knew that the older man was happy to have him with him.

They pulled up to the tower and the doorman opened the back door, holding an umbrella over Tony when he stepped out of the car. 

“Good morning, Mr. Stark.”

“Morning.” Tony looked back at Peter. “Put your hood up,” he told the boy, just barely stopping himself from calling him honey.

Peter did as he was told and stepped out of the car into the rain, but they were only rained on for the very short time it took to walk to the entrance of the incredible building. Peter thanked the doorman, who told him that he was welcomed and then turned to the next car pulling up.

“What does Happy do when he’s not driving you around?” Peter asked Tony as they crossed the lobby to the receptionist desk.

“He does a lot of work related to the Avengers,” Tony told him. “Or he runs errands that I don’t have time to do.” He turned to the woman at the desk and asked her to make Peter an ID badge to allow him into the mag-locked doors. “ _All_ access,” he told her, winking cheerfully at Peter. “I don’t want him locked out of the bathroom at the wrong time.”

The boy blushed and rolled his eyes and was still smiling when the woman took his picture and handed him the badge a minute later.

“Wow.”

Stark smiled.

“Pin it on and don’t lose it, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Since he’d already toured the place with Tony, he knew they were heading for the executive floor, which was where the man’s office was. They didn’t go there, though, when they got out of the elevator. Instead they went to another office, which was just down the hall. Stark knocked, and then ushered Peter in when they heard a reply on the other side.

The woman at the desk watched them walk up and she stood when they arrived, smiling at Peter, curiously.

“ _You_ must be Peter.”

He nodded, shyly.

“Yes.”

Tony smiled; God, he was adorable. He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Peter, this is Pepper Potts. Pepper, this is Peter Parker.”

“You’re a PP, too, huh?” she said, offering him her hand.

“Yes.”

“And,” Tony said. “Get this; Peter’s allergic to _strawberries_.”

“No kidding. _Really_?”

He nodded.

“Yes.”

“So am I.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. The only thing I’m allergic to, but it’s a doozy.”

“Yeah. I can’t get close to them.”

She smiled, charmed by the boy – which didn’t surprise Tony at all – and then turned to Stark.

“Congratulations. You now own a portion of a Japanese tech giant.”

Tony smiled, too.

“It went through?”

“I sent the electronic signatures this morning. The hard copies of the contracts will be coming by courier tomorrow.”

“ _Yes_. I owe you a steak.”

She shrugged.

“That’d be a good start. How are you two doing this morning?”

“We had a surprise inspection by a CPS agent last night,” Tony said. “She barged her way into my apartment like she thought she was going to catch me beating Peter, or something.”

“ _Were_ you?” Pepper asked him, winking at the boy.

“We were making cookies,” Peter told her.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

Stark nodded.

“Yes. We brought you some.”

Peter handed her the bag and she smiled, startled, but pleased when she looked into it.

“That was very… _thoughtful_.”

“Surprised?” Tony asked, amused.

“Yes. A _little_.”

He smirked.

“Do you have any news for Peter, here?” he asked, pointedly.

“ _Options_ ,” she said, gesturing for the boy to sit down, which he did; nervously. “He just turned 16, right?”

They both nodded, and watched her. It was a measure of just how intelligent she was that she didn’t need to bring up any notes.

“Then, technically, he could apply to be emancipated.”

“He’s too young to be on his own, Pepper,” Tony objected. “He _tried_ that. It didn’t work.”

“No. I know. But if he applies for emancipation, it frees him from the limitations that would be placed on him as a ward of the state.”

“What do you mean?”

“For one thing; as a ward of the state, he _has_ to be placed in a foster home – or with someone willing to act as guardian to him. If he is emancipated, then he just has to prove that he has a safe place to live, and an income to provide the basic needs.” She looked at Tony. “Or someone willing to take him in – not necessarily as an official guardian.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He has to finish school. Can’t get married. Is still subject to a junior driver’s license and all the regular restrictions that come with being 16, but it would keep him out of the foster care system, completely.”

“Other options?”

“You can continue as his guardian like you have been, until he’s eighteen. We could find a foster home – or someone else willing to act as guardian – or someone could adopt him. There really are several choices, once you stop and look through all of the legalities.”

Tony looked over at Peter.

“Hear that? It’s not hopeless.”

The boy nodded, silently.

“There’s no rush in making the decision,” Pepper told Peter, aware that he was probably overwhelmed by the discussion. He was just a _baby_ , really, poor little guy. “You guys think about it and let me know. We’ll find the proper papers, or individuals to take care of it.”

“Thank you, Pepper,” Tony told her.

“Yeah,” Peter said, nodding. “Thank you, very much.”

“How are you guys getting along?” she asked, curiously.

“Peter makes me stay home, eat healthy, and go to bed at a reasonable hour and actually _sleep_ ,” Tony told her. “It’s _unbearable_.”

She smiled at that.

“You _look_ like you’ve been getting sleep. Good job, Peter.”

The boy blushed.

“We’re going to let you get back to whatever we interrupted,” Tony told her, standing up. “Thank you again for the information – _and_ for the merger.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled at Peter. “Thank _you_ for the cookies.”

“You’re welcome.”

He got up, too, wiping his hands on his jeans and leaving with Tony, closing the door behind him. Pepper watched them go and then turned her computer display on, again. Then opened the bag of cookies and picked one up.

Her diet could wait for a different day.

><><>>><>> 

They went to Tony’s office from Pepper’s, and he locked the door behind him, giving them some privacy. It wasn’t anything new; he always locked the world away, so nothing unusual there. He just didn’t normally have someone on his side of the door with him. The moment it was closed and secured, he turned to Peter, checking his reaction to Pepper’s information.

The boy looked calm. _Uncertain_ , but calm. And a little overwhelmed.

“Are you okay, honey?” he asked him, running a palm along his still too prominent cheek.

“Yes. I’m just… well, I thought I had to be out of school to sign up to be emancipated. So I’m… well I don’t know. I don’t know what to… how do I… I-“

“Hey…” Tony cut him off, immediately seeing the beginning of either a panic attack in the works, or just a lot of unnecessary worry. “There’s no hurry on any of this.”

“But-“

“Are you _happy_?” Tony asked him, cutting him off, his eyes meeting those chocolate ones that held worry and concern far too often.

Like they did just then.

“What?”

“With the way things are, right now. You and me. Are you okay with it?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Then there’s plenty of time to _decide_. You’re safe. You’re loved. When you’re ready, we’ll sit down and talk about what you think would be the best option for you, but there isn’t any hurry. Okay?”

He nodded, his tongue coming out to lick his lower lip.

“Okay.”

The billionaire smiled, and kissed the boy, his own tongue taking a taste of that same lip.

“So beautiful,” he whispered into the kiss. “So sexy. And amazing.”

Peter whimpered, his hand coming to hold Tony for support, savoring the praise the older man was giving him. Feeling it calm him and make him feel all of those things, all at once.

“Daddy…”

Tony hugged him, tightly, just wrapping his arms around him and tucking Peter against him.

“My baby…” he pressed a kiss against his ear, knowing what had him the most concerned, because he’d voiced the fear early on. “Just remember; _whatever_ you want to do, you have to include me in there – _somewhere_. I need to be with you.”

Peter sniffed, and Tony walked over to the low-slung sofa that he sometimes would nap on when he found himself unwilling to go home at the end of the day. He lowered them both onto it and Peter crawled into his lap, burying his face against his neck. The billionaire could feel his tears on his bare skin.

“Happy tears, honey?” he asked, softly, running his fingers through his hair, tenderly.

“Uh huh.”

“Good.”

They were silent for a long time, while Tony comforted him and Peter soaked up Tony’s strength and confidence and used it to settle his equilibrium. Finally, he drew a shuddering breath.

“I’m glad you got your merger.”

Stark smiled, broadly, and hugged him even closer.

“So am _I_ , Peter.” He pulled away enough to look at him, to be able to gauge how he was doing, and was relieved to see that his eyes were much less troubled. “When you’re feeling up to it, we’ll go to my workroom and I’ll let you see some of the Nanotech data – to start getting you up to speed on the technology.”

The boy looked surprised.

“You’re _really_ going to let me help you?”

He rolled his eyes, allowing Peter to see his amusement, and kissed his forehead.

“I’m certainly not going to do it alone.”


	58. 58

They spent the morning together in Tony’s workroom.

Tony pulled a stool out from under the main workstation and pushed Peter down onto it with a caress and a kiss to the top of his head.

“Sit here, baby,” he told him, bringing up a display and entering a few commands. “This is the basic history of the company that we’re merging with, and the introduction to the Nanotech they’re working it. It’s the presentation they hooked me with, so it’ll have all you need to know to start learning about it.”

Peter nodded, excited by the fact that he was sure no one else was getting a chance to look at the information he was. Not to mention the whole idea of being part of maybe helping Tony build – or at least work on the concept of – his next suit. He started looking through the displayed information, reading about the history, and Tony watched him for a moment, and then turned to his own display, bringing FRIDAY online with it to begin running schematics and possibilities.

The room was silent almost immediately.

><><><><<<> 

_“Happy has arrived in front of the building.”_

Tony lifted his gaze from the screen, slightly startled by the interruption.

“What? _Already_?”

He looked at his watch, and realized that he’d been working for almost three hours. It only seemed like minutes, really. He looked over at Peter, who was running his hand along the display the billionaire had set him in front of, flipping through several images. Tony recognized it as diagrams on the way the Nanotech worked. The boy was clearly lost in thought, because he hadn’t looked up at FRIDAY’s announcement.

“Peter?”

He reached out and touched his shoulder, and Peter started, looking over at him.

“Yeah?”

Tony smiled; was it weird that found it incredibly sexy that the boy could get lost in technology like that?

“Happy’s here.”

“I’m almost done with this…” he said, gesturing back to the page he’d been reading.

How many times had he said something like that to Rhodey, or to Pepper? Tony wondered.

“FRIDAY will save your place. We need a break, and Happy’s waiting to take us to the compound – unless you’d rather have lunch somewhere else?”

“No.” As if he’d ever turn down a chance to eat with an Avenger? Or go to the Avenger compound? “I’d still like to go there. If _you_ do.”

“Yeah. Come on.”

They both stretched; stiff from being in the same position so long, and Tony guided Peter out of the workroom with a casual hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Did you learn anything?” Tony asked the boy as they headed for the elevator.

Peter nodded and started explaining what he’d read. He knew _Tony_ already had the information down, but it was a good way to make sure that he had understood what he’d seen – and it never hurt to give the other a refresher. He was distracted when they walked out into the rain, and Tony simply flipped his hood up for him, nodding thanks to the person who held the umbrella for him while opening the door to the car and waiting for Tony to usher Peter into the back.

“ _Compound, boss_?” Happy’s voice asked over the intercom.

“Yes, please.” He looked at Peter. “Do you need us to stop for a snack or anything? Something to hold you over until we get there?”

“No. I’m good.” The boy smiled; his eyes lit up with cheer. “That was a pretty fun morning, daddy.”

“Being in the workroom, you mean?” Tony asked, reaching out and playing with the string on the hood of the sweatshirt.

“Yes. The best of everything. Being with you _and_ learning something new and interesting.”

“I had a good time, too, honey.” He patted his leg. “Come sit in my lap, I want to hold you.”

Peter did as he was told, willingly. He brought his leg over Tony’s thigh to straddle him, already having decided that if he was allowed to choose, this was his favorite position. Belly to belly and able to simply rest his cheek on Tony’s shoulder, where he could always steal a kiss if he wanted, or could just listen to his heartbeat.

“It’s okay?” he asked, just to make sure Tony didn’t mind.

While it was a great position as far as _Peter_ was concerned, it was Tony who was taking a lot of Peter’s weight, negligible as he said it was. And it was Tony who would be responsible for keeping Peter from falling off his lap if they had to stop suddenly or anything.

Stark nodded, though, and guided Peter’s head to his shoulder, turning his own and kissing the boy’s ear.

“It’s perfect, baby…” Tony murmured. “Will you be upset if I look through some information during the drive?”

“No.”

He kept his cheek on Tony’s shoulder and watched as he pulled out his tablet, handling it easily with the hand that wasn’t holding Peter. Specifications for the new suit came up; mostly they were broad sketches at this stage, but it was still interesting to Peter, who undid a couple of the buttons on Tony’s shirt and slid his hand under it, idly running his fingertips along the billionaire’s chest and belly while he looked at the information, too.

<<><<>>>><> 

It was still raining when they reached the compound a little after the noon hour. Happy pulled the car up under the awning, and came around to open the door. By then, Peter had returned himself to his place in the seat beside Tony, and he was the first one out when the door opened, this time, eager to see who was around.

“Thanks, Happy.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tony rolled his eyes at the driver, amused at the boy’s eagerness, and unbounding energy.

“We need to invest in some Xanax, I think.”

“They don’t make a big enough dose to hold him down…”

“True. We’ll want to leave around 5 o’clock.”

“I’ll be around.”

Peter was already at the door, turned and waiting for Tony, who walked over.

“Go,” he said, waving him off. “I’ll meet you in the lounge.”

The boy didn’t even hesitate; ready for some activity after a morning of sitting still followed by an extended car ride, he trotted down the corridor, with Tony following at a much slower pace.

Steve came around a side hallway just as Stark reached it, and the blonde man gave him a smile by way of greeting.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came for lunch.”

“Where’s Peter?”

“He went on ahead. He’s probably in the lounge and done eating by now.”

Rogers smiled at the purely illusory annoyance in the other man’s tone. Stark looked like he was thoroughly enjoying the boy’s company.

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s rebounding pretty well. No trouble sleeping this weekend. I took him to the tower to talk to Pepper about what his options were, and he was a little overwhelmed by all of them, but I reminded him that we’re not going to do anything unless he’s on board, so I think he’s okay.”

“You’re not going to keep him?”

“He’s not a _puppy_ , Steve.”

“You know what I mean.”

He _did_ know. Tony shrugged.

“If that’s what _he_ wants. Yes. I don’t _have_ to be his guardian, though. I’d still hang out with him, but if he didn’t want to make the arrangement that we have now permanent, I wouldn’t stand in his way of whatever he _did_ want – unless it wasn’t safe for him, of course.”

“Right. How long are you going to be here?”

“We’re here for lunch, and to allow him some time to hang out with the Avengers. Home for dinner and bed at a reasonable hour.”

“Is he back in school, yet?”

“No. I meant a reasonable hour for _me_.”

They turned and reached the entrance to the lounge as they were talking, and found Peter sitting at a table with his doctor. Robert looked up and greeted Tony and Steve with a smile.

“Tony! Peter tells me you two went golfing.”

“We did,” Stark confirmed as they sat down. “He’s a natural. Shot a 45 on eighteen holes.”

The doctor’s eyes widened.

“Seriously?”

“Yes. I’m never taking him, again. He made me look like an _amateur_.”

Tony winked at the boy to make sure he knew he was only teasing, but Peter’s smile told him that he already knew.

 “Just remember,” Robert said to Peter, leaning over conspiringly. “I taught you everything you know.”

The boy nodded his agreement.

“Where’s Romanoff?” Tony asked.

“Right behind you,” came a feminine voice, making all of them look over. The spy had joined them without anyone noticing, and she walked around to stand behind Peter, leaning over and hugging him, her thick mass of hair cascading down around them as she kissed his cheek, soundly. “How’s my favorite spider?”

Peter blushed, but his brown eyes smiled at the cavalier treatment.

“I’m good. Thanks. You?”

“It’s raining out,” she told him, unnecessarily. “It’s messing with my hair. What are you guys doing here?” she asked, taking the empty seat beside Peter, but now addressing Tony.

“We came to have lunch,” the billionaire said. “You guys can help me celebrate my new tech company merger.”

“Is it boring?” she asked.

“Nanotech,” he replied. “Cutting edge.”

“ _Sounds_ boring.”

“Where’s _Bruce_?” Stark asked, scowling. “He’ll be impressed.”

She smirked.

“He’s in the city.”

“You’ll probably hear from him,” Steve added. “He’s been talking about having something for Peter to look at for the last day or so.”

“For _me_?” Peter asked.

“That’s what he said.”

Tony nodded; pretty sure he knew what it was.

“Well, he knows where to find me. You guys ready to eat?”

><<<<>>>><> 

Conversation around the table during lunch was mostly about the Nanotech to start – which was interesting to Peter and boring to the others. When Tony had explained it as far as he could, the topic was switched to other Avenger matters that were simple logistics and noting that would keep the interest of a sixteen-year-old boy. Not surprisingly, then, when Peter was finished with his lunch he asked if he could go look around.

Tony looked at Steve, who nodded.

“I don’t see why not. I’ll let security know that he’s here, so they don’t stop him if they see him – and to be polite if they find him someplace sensitive.”

“Stay away from the sensitive places,” Tony told him.

“I will.”

The boy got up and left, and they all watched him until he was gone.

“He looks like he’s doing well,” Romanoff noted.

“He is. The CPS people came by last night and confirmed it.”

“Did they throw a surprise inspection and wellness check?” the doctor asked.

“Yup.”

“Yes, they love to spring those on a Sunday night when people are already stressed enough about getting ready for the week ahead. What did they find?”

“We were baking cookies.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t bring any?”

“Happy and Pepper were on the receiving end of the leftovers. What little there was to bake once he talked me into letting him eat the cookie dough.”

“You didn’t let him eat raw cookie dough, Tony…” Robert said.

“Why not?” Steve asked, at the same time Romanoff started to say the same thing. “It’s better raw, really. Especially chocolate chip, since it has brown sugar.”

Natasha nodded.

“Because he could get _sick_ ,” the doctor said. “Do you have any idea how hard salmonella can hit a person?”

“We used to eat it all the time when I was a kid,” Steve said. “Never had a problem.”

“He looks _fine_ ,” Romanoff agreed.

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Peter agreed with you, and used his big brown eyes to get me to go along with him,” he admitted. “If he gets salmonella, you guys are going to be dealing with him – just for agreeing with him.”

“He’s fine,” Steve assured him, turning the conversation back to the training schedule and how he wanted to use the firepower the Ironman suit could bring – even when it came to providing something as simple as air cover.

>><<<>>>< 

Peter had a pretty good time, even though he was alone as he wandered through the compound. He started in the corridors but saw the Quinjets through one of the many windows and ended up going outside to the landing pad to take a closer look. Yes, it was raining, but he sheltered under one of the planes to look at it, and he didn’t get too wet.

From there he saw a helicopter – something that he’d never had a chance to look at up close before – and he went over to that landing pad to get a look at it, as well. He was pretty wet by the time he decided he was ready to go back inside, but the rain hadn’t been too cold, so he wasn’t shiver or anything.

Just wet. A glance at his watch told him that he’d been looking around a little longer than he thought, and he was just getting ready to call Tony, when an overhead speaker startled him by mentioning his name.

“Peter Parker, report to the front entrance.”

Feeling a surge of happiness and excitement at being named, specifically – in the Avenger’s compound, no less – he turned and headed for the entrance and found Tony waiting for him near the car with Natasha standing next to him talking to him.

Romanoff wasn’t the only one to frown when they saw how wet the boy was. Tony looked concerned.

“What happened to you?” he asked. “You’re _soaked_.”

“I went to look at the jets,” Peter replied, cheerfully. “Did you know they have a _helicopter_ , too?”

“Yes. Are you cold?”

Tony put his hand on the boy's forehead, but Peter shook his head.

“No. I’m okay. Really. Just wet.”

“Well, let’s get you in the car. Say your goodbyes.”

Peter rolled his eyes, good-naturedly, and Natasha caught him in a hug, despite the fact that his sweatshirt was damp.

“Tony’s going to bring you out for the weekend,” she said. “We’ll take you up in the helicopter if the weather’s good.”

“Really?”

“Why not?”

He grinned.

“Thanks.”

“Get in the car,” Tony told him. “Get that wet sweatshirt off.” He looked at Happy, who was standing by the door. “Find me a blanket, will you? And a towel if we have one.”

“Sure.”

The driver went to the trunk and Romanoff smiled.

“Relax, poppa. He’s not even shivering. I checked when I hugged him.”

Stark rolled his eyes, amused despite his concern.

“Let’s get him a little healthier before we start letting him do dumb things like this, okay?”

“Over protective much?” she asked, not even hiding her amusement at his reaction to the boy being wet.

“Yes. We’ll see you this weekend.”

“Bring me cookies, Peter,” she said, loudly.

“Okay.”

Tony took a blanket and a towel from Happy and got into the car, closing the door behind him. Peter smiled, looking far more happy than chilled, but Tony started drying his hair, anyway.

“That was fun, daddy,” he told him, accepting the semi-rough treatment without any complaint. “Thanks.”

Stark sighed, and pulled the boy’s t-shirt off, since it was wet, too, and draped it on the other seat.

“I’m glad you had a good time, honey, but try to stay dryer, next time, alright? I worry about you being wet.”

His face fell.

“I’m sorry.”

Tony brushed a kiss against his lips, lovingly.

“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t get _sick_. Alright?”

“I won’t.”

Contrite, Peter climbed into Tony’s lap and the older man draped the blanket over him to keep him warm. He didn’t guide his head to his shoulder or chest, though, instead catching his lips for another kiss; this one more heated.

“When we get home, you’re going into the bathtub for a while – to make sure you don’t catch a chill.” Now he did put Peter’s head on his shoulder, but his free hand didn’t reach for his tablet. This time it slid down between the two of them, reaching for the button on Peter’s jeans. “Until then, I’ll keep you warm, okay, honey?”

“Yes, daddy.”


	59. 59

“You don’t need to get the door, Happy,” Tony told his driver when they pulled in to the parking garage much later.

_“Gotcha. I’ll be by to get you in the morning.”_

“Thanks.”

_“Night, Peter.”_

“Night, Happy. Thank you.”

Peter got out of the backseat of the car, dressed once more in his sweatshirt, which was now dry, and carrying the t-shirt. If he walked awkwardly to the elevator, the driver could assume it was because he was stiff from the long drive. He _wasn’t_ , though. He was stiff because _Tony_ had spent the entire trip from the compound lightly stroking Peter’s cock.

Not enough to get him off, and really, not even so much that Peter was whining about it. It had simply been the loving touch of someone who wanted to make sure his baby was feeling wanted and appreciated – and Peter definitely _did_. When they’d reached the apartment garage, Tony had kissed Peter’s ear and tucked him carefully back into his jeans. Then he’d reached for the sweatshirt and had dressed him in it, as if he were a much younger child.

Peter hadn’t minded; he was in a pleasant state of anticipation when he got himself out of Tony’s lap, well aware that spending that much time stroking him had also aroused the billionaire, if the hard rod of flesh he’d felt against the denim of his jeans the past half hour was any indication. He didn’t know what Tony had planned for them, but it was almost certainly going to be a good thing.

“How do you feel, honey?” Tony asked him in the elevator.

“I’m okay.”

A hand brushed his forehead, sliding down his jawline and cheek.

“Chilled? Are you warm enough?”

“I don’t feel too cold. Just like usual.”

He was _always_ cold, Tony knew that, though.

“I want you to go take a bath. I’ll start dinner and come check on you.”

“Okay.”

Tony kissed him, though, before he could move toward his bedroom. A soft, tender, kiss that made Peter smile. The billionaire nibbled lightly on the boy’s lower lip before releasing it.

“A long bath, baby, okay? I want you warm before you get out of it.”

“Yes, daddy.”

He growled, tempted to bed him over the arm of the couch and hear him begging for daddy to stuff him full, but he pulled away, instead.

“Call FRIDAY if you need anything.”

He went to the kitchen to pull the ingredients for their dinner, while Peter went into his bedroom, shedding his clothes as he headed for the bath. He left them on the vanity near the sink and started water in the tub, and then went to the dresser for a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, as well as another sweatshirt. This one had a SHIELD logo on it, and had been a gift from Steve – which made it priceless.

When the tub was full – he didn’t bother with bubbles – he eased into the hot water with a sigh of contentment and leaned back. Submersed as he was, it was one of the few times that he ever really felt warm. It wasn’t because he’d been sick, though, because he’d always been that way as long as he could remember. It just was worse when the seasons changed and it started getting colder outside like it was.

Peter closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax, and slid his hand to his cock, sliding his palm along it, lazily, almost automatically, feeling himself begin to swell once more. _That_ felt good, too, and he smiled, thinking that he was probably the luckiest person on the planet. At least the luckiest 16 year old. He was pretty certain that he was getting a lot more attention, sexually, than any kid in his school. Except maybe some of the seniors, he supposed, if the bragging he heard in the locker rooms had any truth to it.

“You have no idea how _sexy_ that is.”

Tony’s voice from the doorway made him open his eyes and turn his head, and Peter blushed, slightly, at having been caught playing with himself. His hand still.

“Oh. Yeah. I was just…”

“Don’t stop on my account, honey,” Tony purred, walking over and sitting on the edge of the tub, easily. He leaned over and slid a fingertip along the head of Peter’s erection, smiling when it twitched at the touch. “Like I said; I think it’s sexy.”

“I was just thinking of you…”

Which elicited another smile.

“Good. That’s exactly the effect I want to have on you. Are you warmer?”

“Yes.”

The older man reached for a washcloth and body wash, and dipped the towel in the water before applying liberal amounts of the soap.

“Sit up a little, baby boy. Let daddy wash you.”

Peter did as he was told, and watched Tony’s face as he washed his back and neck with the washcloth. The man was so handsome. So _masculine_. His eyes were so focused on what he was doing. The billionaire smiled, catching Peter watching him, and leaned over and kissed him as he began to wash his shoulders.

“Feels good?”

“Yes, daddy.”

The cloth moved to the other shoulder and then to Peter’s chest and belly.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

Peter shivered, despite the hot water, and Tony ran the cloth along his swollen cock and then under the surface of the water to wash his testicles and slide between his legs. The boy lifted his rear, giving him access to his ass and he was washed there, as well, before the cloth moved to his legs and Peter settled back in the tub.

“That feels good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You like daddy’s hands all over you?”

“Yes.”

The towel ended up at his penis, again, and he sighed when Tony washed it, needlessly, a little longer.

“You’re clean, honey,” Tony finally said. “Go get in the shower to rinse the soap.”

The boy heaved himself out of the tub, cock bobbing in front of him as he did, and Tony steadied him as he stepped out of the tub and moved to the shower, shivering just a little as he turned on the water and waited for it to heat up. Tony hit the bathtub drain to release the water, and then walked over and watched Peter shower, his face turned into the spray and water pouring over that delightfully aroused body.

The boy turned off the water, finally and saw Tony holding a thick, fluffy, towel. He smiled and stepped into the older man’s embraced, holding still while his body was carefully dried and then his hair was attacked with another towel until it was only just damp. Tony smiled as he pulled the towel away and Peter felt himself get lost in the love he saw in the billionaire’s eyes.

“Thank you, daddy…”

“You’re welcome.” He picked up the comb on the sink and ran it through Peter’s hair, taming it – somewhat – before pressing his cheek against the boy’s, his hand running along his belly. “Go get on your bed, belly down and wait for me.”

Peter shivered, again, and did as he was told. He left the bathroom and went to his bed, positioning himself in the middle of it, above the blankets with his hips slightly raised, his cock under him but not pinned between him and the blankets, and trembled; a mixture of the cool air in the room against his now warm skin, and anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful,” Tony murmured as he walked out of the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. “So _pretty_ , baby.”

He blushed with pleasure at the compliments, and smiled, sweetly up at the older man.

“Thank you, daddy.”

Tony ran his hand along Peter’s hip, the alabaster skin a little flushed with the warmth of the bath and shower. Then he stood up and undressed, and Peter saw that he was hard and eager. It made him tremble, again.

“I want to do something to you, baby,” the billionaire murmured, shifting onto the bed and parting Peter’s thighs, opening him to his gaze. “If you don’t like it, tell me, okay? I don’t want to scare you.”

Peter nodded, craning his head around but not really able to see what Tony was doing.

“Alright.”

He felt him nudge his knees further apart and get between them, and felt his breath on the delicate flesh.

“So beautiful,” Tony said, again, his hands kneading Peter’s cheeks, spreading them open.

The boy about jumped out of the bed when he felt Tony’s lips on him, kissing one of the mounds of flesh right up against his crack. Tony settled him with a gentle caress and murmured words of reassurance, smiling at the reaction, but not worried about it. Peter would tell him if it wasn’t _good_. He knew he’d simply startled him. He tightened his hold and kissed him, again, and while Peter was a tense bundle of nerves under his grasp, he didn’t try to escape the touch.

“You’re so brave,” he crooned, sliding his tongue against that tight hole, and tasting it. Soap and Peter. “So very wonderful…”

The boy moaned at the sensations coursing through him, and writhed under the touch and the praise, his fingers fisting the bedding he was sprawled on. Tony played with him for several long minutes, getting Peter used to the sensation of being tasted and touched, his tongue invading the boy and then his fingers replacing it, stretching him, lovingly, preparing him and enjoying him.

Finally he lifted his head and shifted once more, now on his knees. He lifted Peter’s hips, giving himself a better angle and nudged the boy’s opening with his eager cock.

“Beg me, baby,” Tony whispered, wanting to hear him.

“Please, daddy…” Peter moaned, pressing back against Tony as he began sliding into him. “Please…”

He hilted, easily. The boy was still wonderfully tight, but Tony’s care made Peter able to handle the invasion and even though he moaned, wonderfully, as he was filled, there wasn’t any tenseness that came with discomfort.

“Yes, honey,” Tony crooned, slowly backing out and then pushing forward, his hands on the boy’s hips, Peter’s body his for the taking. “So perfect… so amazing… so tight for daddy.”

“Daddy…” Peter buried his face into the blankets under him, his hips grinding back against Tony as he was fucked, slowly at first, and then a bit faster as the sight of the boy under him and the moans of him begging for his daddy excited him. “Please, daddy… _please_ …”

“Oh, Peter… goddamn…”

He was driving into him, now, each thrust pushing the boy into the mattress, each motion sending Peter’s aching cock into the bedding. The friction had him trying to rut against the bedding while taking Tony’s blissful assault at the same time, and he was sobbing in a mixture of pleasure and frustration.

_“Daddy…!”_

“Who do you belong to, baby boy?” Tony murmured, covering the boy, now, his mouth against Peter’s ear, his belly pressed to the boy’s back, holding still deep inside his prize.

“You, daddy,” Peter whimpered. “Only _you_.”

“Yes…” he reached around and found Peter’s painfully hard cock and the boy cried out at the merest touch, overly sensitive and reacting to it. Tony started thrusting again, keeping contact with Peter’s back, his weight adding to each thrust as he pounded Peter and stroked him in the same rhythm as the raspy breathing that was dampening the boy’s ear. “Mine. All mine.”

Peter climaxed, strips of cum splattering the bedding and smearing Tony’s hand, and he would have collapsed if not for the hand Tony had holding him. The older man continued fucking him, each thrust harder than the preceding, each motion more excited.

“Daddy…” Peter begged, trying to help him. “Yes, daddy… all yours… just yours.”

Tony groaned and drove deep, his entire body tensing as he came, his orgasm filling Peter with waves of hot cum, while his hips jerked uncontrollably. He cursed; his breath ragged as he collapsed onto Peter, driving him even deeper into the bedding, where he lay, helplessly pinned as Tony caught his breath and came down from his climax.

“Jesus, baby…” he crooned, pulling out of Peter and then rolling off of him, and dragging the boy onto _him_ , instead, hugging him, gratefully. “You’re so _perfect_. Did you know that?”

Peter rested his cheek against Tony’s bare chest, uncertain how to respond to that.

“I love you.”

Tony smiled, hugging him close, and peppering his face with butterfly kisses.

“I love you, too, honey. Are you alright?”

“M-hmm.”

“Daddy wasn’t too rough?”

“It feels good when you are,” Peter told him, sleepily, feeling the euphoria combining with the sensation of being held so lovingly gather him into its own embrace, lulling him to somnolence. “I like how excited you get.”

The boy was falling asleep on him, Tony realized, amused. He was a living embodiment of all of the complaints lovers had about the person who would fuck you, pull out, and then immediately roll over and fall asleep without any pillow talk to speak of.

“Don’t let me hurt you,” Stark told him, moving out from under him and then kissing him once more before he got off the bed and pulled the top, soiled blanket out from under the boy and then maneuvered him under the rest of them, unwilling to let him get chilled. “I want to love you, but not injure…”

Peter mumbled something that sounded like agreement, but could have really been anything, and Tony smiled.

“Take a nap, honey,” he whispered – well aware that Peter was going to sleep whether he wanted him awake, or not. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to eat.”

Then he kissed the boy, again, found his clothes and went to go check their dinner.


	60. 60

It was still raining the next morning when they pulled out of the parking garage on their way to the tower.

“You’ve got your phone on you, right?” Tony asked Peter, running his fingers through the boy’s hair, lightly.

“Yes.”

“So if you need _anything_ , you can call.”

“FRIDAY isn’t in the R&D labs?”

“Not in all of them, no. Only _my_ workrooms.” He smiled. “Researchers can get edgy if they think they’re being spied on, and FRIDAY definitely would qualify as _big brother_.”

Peter nodded.

He was pretty excited.

As they’d been sitting down to dinner the night before, Bruce had called Tony and mentioned that he was going to be at the tower the next day to do some work in his lab, there, and had said, offhandedly,  that Peter might be interested in what he was doing, if he didn’t have anything else planned for the day. The billionaire had glanced at Peter who had nodded, excitedly, and then had asked what time he’d wanted him there.

“Whenever works best for your schedule,” had been the response.

“I’ll bring him in with me in the morning.”

He had some merger details to finalize and then several video meetings and local meetings he needed to attend, so it would work out well – and keep Peter from being stuck by himself all morning.

The boy had been excited, then, wondering what Bruce was working on and asking Tony if he knew. Since Stark only knew that Bruce could be working on one of a dozen different projects at a time, he’d been forced to respond with a simple ‘ _I don’t know, honey’_ , and had set to distracting Peter with a movie and some cuddling on the couch.

Which had worked, of course. Peter was rested from his nap and feeling content, and had crawled into Tony’s lap after dinner, straddling him, but with his hips far enough back that he’d been able to reach down between them and pull the older man’s cock out of his lounge pants and play with it; idly stroking it as they watched the movie, keeping him aroused and pleasantly alert.

When the movie was over, Peter simply slipped out of his lap and to the floor, his slight body between Tony’s knees to hold them open and had given him a blowjob, teasing him for much too long before finally swallowing Tony’s load of cum. Stark had crooned in approval, kissed him soundly and told him it was bedtime. Nap or no nap, he wanted the boy well-rested for the morning.

Naked and cuddled next to him, though, Peter’s mind went back to Bruce’s invitation and he’d started wondering aloud if it was a gamma project or something else.

“If Bruce and I are working on a gamma project,” he murmured into Tony’s ear. “And there was an _accident_ … do you think I would be like the hulk? Only with my _spider_ abilities, too? And would _he_ become double hulk or something? Super bigger, super stronger? We could team up… _Spider_ Hulk and _Hulkier_ Hulk, or something…”

Tony had been only somewhat listening; his tablet in one hand and the other arm holding Peter. At _that_ rumination, however, he rolled his eyes and turned the tablet off and told FRIDAY to dim the lights.

“Go to sleep, honey.”

He’d remind Bruce in the morning when he saw him that they couldn’t do any _gamma_ experiments.

“Night, daddy.”

He’d tucked his nose against the older man’s neck and had done as he was told.

><<<><>< 

Bruce was waiting in the lobby when they arrived. He was leaning against the receptionist’s desk – not the same one that Peter remembered seeing there the day he’d come looking for Tony after running from the school – and perked up when he saw the two of them crossing the room, sticking out of the crowd, easily.

Tony, because he was _Tony Stark_. Peter because he was the only fifteen-year-old in the area.

“Hey, guys.”

“Sorry we’re late,” Tony said, meaning it. “Traffic is a bitch because of the rain.”

“Yeah, it was for me, too.” He grinned at Peter. “How are you doing?”

“Good. Thanks. You?”

“I’m good. Sorry I missed you, yesterday, at the compound.”

“What are you going to be working on?” Tony asked, curiously, as they headed for an elevator, Peter’s new all access badge already pinned to his shirt.

“Secret _Avenger_ things,” Bruce said, looking at the other passengers in a sly manner that made Peter smile and Tony throw another of his famous eye rolls. “You can come look before your meeting, if you want.”

Visions of _Spider_ Hulk and _Hulkier_ Hulk flashing through his mind, Tony took him up on the offer, and they rode in relative silence to the R&D floor that Bruce’s lab was on, and they were the only three to get off at the stop.

“Well?” Tony asked, since they were alone.

“I’ve been working on Peter’s web fluid,” Bruce said, as they walked into his lab and closed the door. “I know he said it’s pretty good, now, but you did mention wanting to get the dissolve time down, and I thought we could see how my formula works.”

“I didn’t bring the shooter,” Peter said, his brown eyes lighting up, excitedly, despite that. “Wow. _Really_?”

“I jury-rigged one that will work for now,” Banner told him, smiling at the animation in the boy’s expression. “The shooter is really going to be on _Tony_ to work out with you. Mine will dispense the fluid, but not the way you’ll need it. All we need for our purposes, though, is for the right density to shoot from anything, to give us a control.”

Peter turned to Tony.

“You’ll help me with the shooter?”

He nodded, pleased at how delighted the boy looked.

And why wouldn't he? 

“I _will_. You and Bruce figure out the formula, and I’ll help you make sure the delivery system is there.”

“Wow.”

Secure in the knowledge that they weren’t working on anything more dangerous than web fluid, Tony told them to have fun, and mentioned that his schedule should have him free for lunch sometime around 1 o’clock, if that was doable. Then he left them to their work, and went to get started on his own – although his agile mind was already coming up with different designs that would more efficiently with Peter’s webbing, even as he headed to the elevator.

Bruce turned to Peter once the door had closed behind Stark.

“So, I know you gave me the general formula that you were using in the most recent version,” he said, walking over to the supply cabinet. “So let’s make sure I have _that_ right, first, and then we can use it for our control for today.”

“Okay.”

He handed Peter a pair of safety glasses and a white lab coat and the boy grinned, slipping it on over his sweatshirt.

>>><><><>>><< 

Tony was sitting at the head of the conference table. In front of him were several of Stark Industries operation officers, one of the financial officers, two vice presidents and Pepper Potts, who was more efficient and important than all of them combined. He had a small stack of papers on the table in front of him and set the pen he’d been holding down beside them, looking at Pepper, and then at the display screen where three Japanese men were sitting, with a similar stack of papers and a pen.

“That’s it, then,” Tony said, forcing down the little squee that tried to escape and settling for a professional smile. “ _Welcome to Stark Industries_.”

“Thank you,” one of the Japanese men said, bowing. “I think this will be beneficial for all.”

“I intend for it to be.” He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and surreptitiously looked at it. All he saw was Peter’s name, but it was enough for him to turn back to the display, and to Pepper. “Pepper’s going to work on some logistics with you and the others, but I appreciate your time, gentlemen. Especially given the time of day it is, there.”

“Our pleasure.”

Stark escaped the room without showing a smug smile at just how good his day was going, and went to his office, closing the door behind him before pulling his phone out. It was a text, and he smiled, softly, and sat down at his desk, looking at it.

Not just words, but a selfie with him and Bruce in the lab; both wearing eye protection goggles and smiling at the camera that Peter was obviously holding.

_Lunch soon?_

The billionaire felt just the faintest sting of threatening tears. Peter had taken a _selfie_. He wondered if Bruce had suggested it, or if the boy had requested it, but in the end it didn’t matter, since it just meant that he was getting through to the boy, reminding him that there were people who were interested in what he was doing.

He flipped his camera up and took a picture of himself, the city in the background, sprawling out the window behind him, and sent a quick reply.

_When you guys are ready. I’m done for the day. Come to my office._

He hit send, and then swiped the display on his phone, sending the image to the larger display on his desk.

“FRIDAY, pull up initial schematics for web shooters v.1.3.”

The display came up, but Tony made sure the picture stayed where it was, as well, and even as he toyed with different options – also considering Nanotech, now that he was going to have it available – his eyes would constantly stray to the picture; namely the boy in it.

He wouldn’t make a big deal about it, but they’d have to celebrate. Somehow.


	61. 61

They had lunch in the executive dining room. Sitting at a table by a huge window that gave them a great view of the city and was private, so they were able to discuss anything, freely.

“What did you learn today?” Tony asked Bruce and Peter as they were seated.

“I learned that Peter isn’t just _pretty_ smart,” Bruce said, with a fond smile at the boy. “He’s seriously _genius_ material.”

“Yeah?”

“The web fluid is incredible, Tony,” Banner said, leaning forward and speaking softly, out of habit more than need. “Peter’s version was created at _school_. During other assignments.”

“He told me that,” Tony said, also smiling, because Peter was flushing with pleasure at having someone who was as well respected as Bruce call him a genius. The praise thing was obviously not confined to just sex. “Were you guys able to improve on it?”

“Yes.”

Peter nodded, too.

“Bruce was already working on a newer version, but we had to make sure not to change the functionality, obviously, so it didn’t lose its tensile strength.”

“I think we were able to make it stronger – and that’s just _today’s_ version. I might play with it some more, once we have Peter test the latest batch we whipped up.”

“You’re ready for testing?” Stark asked, surprised.

“Yes. We just need you to make a shooter that will handle the new version, since it’s a little less viscus than Peter’s first concept.”

“You have a sample for me?”

“We have several. It reacts to air, so that’s something you’ll need to keep in mind when you’re designing the delivery system.”

“Yes, I noticed that when I was examining the set he had when we found him.” Tony smiled at Peter, not even bothering to hide how proud he was. “I’ll work on it this afternoon.”

Peter flushed, looking about as happy as Tony could ever remember him being.

“Okay.”

Bruce grinned; _he_ hadn’t missed how happy the boy looked, either.

“I’m done with him, for now, so he’s all yours after lunch.”

Tony nodded, looking at Peter.

“I have one meeting I can’t get out of, right after lunch. You can hang out in my office, if you want, or my workroom.”

“You're going to turn him loose in your workroom – _unsupervised_?” Bruce asked.

Stark shrugged.

“FRIDAY will keep an eye on things. Peter won’t go crazy and start making plans for world domination. Right?”

The boy shook his head.

“No.”

“See?”

><><><>< 

“You’re not going to make plans for world domination, _right_?”

Peter smiled, and shook his head, looking around the workroom, still awed by it, even though it wasn’t his first visit.

“No. I don’t _want_ to rule the world.”

“Good.” He ran his fingers through Peter’s hair, tenderly, his expression a mixture of pride and cheer. “I’ll probably be gone an hour or so. FRIDAY will give you whatever information you want on Nanotech, and you can continue looking at that – or if you want to draw up a concept for what you want your new shooters to look like, you can do that.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” He kissed Peter, and scowled when his watch went off, an alert to remind him he had the meeting. “FRIDAY? Don’t let him get into trouble.”

_“Gotcha.”_

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter said, walking over to the table that dominated the room.

“You’re welcome, honey.”

The billionaire left, and Peter brought up a 3D display screen and held both hands up against it.

“FRIDAY? We need a 3D representation of my hands and wrists, please.”

Once the AI knew the dimensions of his wrists, they could at least start on the bracelets that would keep the shooters on, and he could start designing. It was a heady thought, he decided as the scanners ran over both hands and then his wrists, to realize that he had the most advanced tech in the world right there – literally – at his fingertips.

>>><<<><><>> 

“Have I told you just how amazing you are?” Tony asked Peter, as they were sitting in the back of the car on the way home, later that day.

Peter blushed, pleased, and shook his head.

“You did, before.”

“It still applies.” He pulled the webshooters out of his pocket and examined them. “These are just the prototype, but they look good enough to be a finished product.”

“You _built_ them,” the boy reminded him. “I just worked on the design a little.”

“A _lot_.”

With FRIDAY helping him, Peter had actually had the design completely laid out and ready by the time Tony had rejoined him after his meeting. It wasn't like he was starting from scratch, after all. He'd already built a pair of webshooters and knew what he was looking for in the design. He’d explained the concept to the billionaire, using drawings, graphics and his own hands and wrists, and hadn’t been surprised that Tony caught on, immediately, to what he was trying to do.

The man _was_ a genius, after all.

Tony was also an engineer who loved building and creating, and as Peter had watched, he’d seated himself at his worktable and started making what Peter had come up with. By the time they called it a day, he had a working prototype.

“They’re still pretty amazing,” Peter said, also looking at the webshooters in Tony’s hand. “When can we test them?”

“We’ll take them to the compound this weekend,” Tony replied. “That way we’ll be close to my workshop there, and can make any modifications on the spot.”

And the others could learn what Peter could do while Tony was learning it, as well.

“Thank you,” Peter told him, hugging him. “For _making_ them, I mean.”

“You’re welcome.”

It had only taken a couple of hours, after all, but it had made Peter smile, and that was worth far more to him. Not to mention, he had genuinely enjoyed doing it. He put the webshooters in his pocket and pulled the boy onto his lap.

“Is there anything that you want to do tonight, honey?”

Peter shook his head, leaning his cheek against Tony’s chest.

“Just be with you.”

“I have something I’d like for you to try out,” Tony told him, nuzzling his face into Peter’s hair.

“What is it?”

“I’ll show you when we get home.”

They didn’t really speak the rest of the drive, both thinking their own thoughts, which were similar – even though they didn’t know it. They were enjoying the company of the other and wondering what they’d done before they had someone to hold like this.

When Happy pulled into the garage twenty minutes later, Peter was the first one out the door.

“Same time tomorrow, boss?” Happy asked, as Tony got out as well.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Chicken for dinner,” Tony told him as they exited the elevator. “Fried or baked?”

“Whatever you want to make.”

He frowned, pulling off the jacket for his suit.

“That isn’t what I asked you, Peter,” Tony said. “Do you want your chicken fried or baked?”

Peter flushed at the reprimand, gentle though it was.

“Fried.”

Tony nodded, and hugged him close.

“You get to decide, too,” he reminded him. “Even for something as simple as what we’re having for dinner.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He slid his hands along the boy’s sides and down to his rear, cupping his jeans and pulling him up against him, and pressing his cheek against Peter’s. “I’m going to go change. Why don’t you go put something loose on, too? Sweats or pajamas, whatever you want.”

“Okay.”

They separated, and Peter went and changed into sweats. They were generally warmer than pajamas, after all. He returned to the living room before Tony did, and sat down on the sofa, picking up the remote and turning on the TV.

Stark joined him a few minutes later, also dressed down, although he was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of lounge pants. He was holding a tube of lube and a small item that Peter didn’t recognize. He held it up for Peter to look at as he sat down, and the boy frowned.

“What is it?”

“An anal plug. A _butt_ plug in other parlances. I want you to wear it.”

“What does it do?”

“It has a few uses. The main one for _us_ will be that it will keep you open and ready for me, whenever I want you. I put this inside you and later on, when _I_ want to be inside you, I just take it out and I can fuck you – without preparing you, since you’re already open.”

“Oh.”

“We’ll use _lube_ , of course,” Tony said, noticing the less than interested tone. “It won’t _hurt_ you.”

“What are the other uses?”

“It should feel good for you. This one isn’t as big as many of them, but you can rotate your hips a little – grind against it – and it’ll make you feel full. Can we try it?”

He hesitated, but nodded, and Tony smiled.

“Stand up, honey.” When Peter did, Tony positioned him in between his knees, first, sliding his hands along Peter’s belly and chest. “So brave,” he murmured, caressing him. “Always willing to do what daddy wants to, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to make my big boy feel good,” Stark murmured, pulled the front of Peter’s sweats down and taking his time playing with Peter’s cock, rousing him with his tongue and lips and then sucking on him, exciting the boy and making him lose the uncertain look in his expression. “So _beautiful_ ,” Tony said, before licking his tongue along Peter’s shaft, making the boy moan.

“Please, daddy…” Peter said, his hands on Tony’s shoulders. “ _Yes_.”

“Not _yet_ , baby,” Tony told him, pulling back and releasing Peter’s cock. “Bend over for daddy.”

He pulled the boy’s sweats down completely while Peter complied, and spread his ass cheeks, exposing his puckered hole. Tony applied lube to his finger, and stretched Peter, who whimpered at the intrusion and pressed back against him. After careful attention, he applied another finger and brushed the boy’s prostrate, which made Peter tremble with desire.

“So _good_ for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Tony cooed as he lubed the butt plug and began working it into Peter’s ass. “Daddy’s beautiful boy…”

“Yes.”

Tony inserted it, completely, and leaned back, spreading Peter’s cheeks and admiring his handiwork.

“That’s _perfect_ , baby. Now turn around and let me finish you.”

Peter did as he was told, facing Tony once more, and the older man turned his attention to Peter’s cock, taking it into his mouth and slurping on it, sucking the head, and then lapping at the shaft, rolling his testicles in his hand, livingly.

The boy’s hips were rocking, now, and he came with an excited grunt, his hips snapping forward and his cock exploding in Tony’s mouth. The billionaire swallowed what he was given, licking Peter’s cock to clean him, thoroughly, before he pulled his sweats back over the boy’s hips and looked up at him, sliding his hand along Peter’s ass, massaging him through the fabric.

“How does it feel?”

Peter didn’t know, really. It was a new sensation for him. He just nodded.

“Okay.”

“No pain?”

“No. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Good. Make sure you tell me if it _does_ hurt you.”

“Alright.”

Tony stood up and hugged the boy, kissing him sensually before letting him go.

“Come help me make dinner, honey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, if interest is waning, I could wrap the story line up a little quicker. I like writing out the mundane life as well as the smut, so it could also be allowed to go a lot more. Thoughts? feelings?


	62. 62

They peeled potatoes – all part of Peter learning how to cook – and then Tony set them to boil. He also pulled a chicken out of the fridge and parted it with only a few skillful chops with a butcher knife. Peter stood by the kitchen island and watched, impressed; he’d never had a reason to use the butcher knife in the knife set that May and Ben had had – now he knew what it was used for. Tony put some spices in a small, shallow bowl of flour, put the chicken back in the fridge and washed his hands.

“Now we wait for the potatoes so we can start frying chicken. Corn okay?”

“Sure.”

“How do you feel?” he asked, coming around the island to slide his hand along Peter’s hip, his fingers going to the indentation of the boy’s ass, touching him lightly through the fabric of his sweats.

“Okay.”

Tony kissed Peter, bringing the boy’s hand down to his belly, and then guiding it even lower to the growing bulge in his lounge pants. Peter ran his tongue along Tony’s lower lip while he wrapped his fingers around the shaft of Tony’s cock, sliding his thumb along the tip which was dribbling precum.

Stark groaned.

“God, that’s so good, baby,” he murmured watching Peter’s eyes and the boy stroked him. “Come on, let’s go see how well that plug works…”

He carefully pulled himself away from Peter’s hand and guided the boy just as far as the couch. Peter found himself being bent over the arm of the sofa rather than laid out on it, and Tony pulled the boy’s sweats down to his knees while freeing his cock from his pants.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told Peter, sliding one hand along the white flesh of Peter’s ass, stroking himself with the other. “I’ve been waiting all day to be inside you, honey. I wanted to bend you over the table in the workroom, but we decided that that wouldn’t be comfortable, remember?”

“Yes…”

Peter waited, anticipating, and Tony carefully pulled the plug from his tight hole, the motion making the boy moan, and exciting Tony, further. He nudged Peter’s thighs apart and lubed his cock, but didn’t touch the boy’s ass – except to spread his cheeks. Peter whimpered as the thick head of Tony’s cock pressed against his hole and started to force its way inside him.

“Is it hurting you?” Tony asked, hesitating.

Peter shook his head, bracing himself on the arm of the sofa, his forearms against the leather.

“No, daddy…”

At the words, he felt Tony take hold of his hips and finish the process of working his way inside him until the billionaire was hilted and had his stomach and chest resting over Peter’s back.

“Fuck, baby… so perfect. So tight.”

He pulled partially out and then slammed himself back into Peter, making the boy grunt with the motion. Then he hesitated, and did it, again. And again.

“Yes, daddy…” Peter groaned, moving back into him with each thrust once he’d caught the rhythm Tony was getting into.

“My baby…” Stark grunted. “So perfect. Just for me… so tight…”

Each word accompanied a thrust until his hips were jerking too quickly for Peter to keep up, his lust making him hold the boy’s hips and jerk him back onto each thrust. Peter moaned, partially in pleasure and because he knew the noise would excite Tony – and it did. His thrusting increased, his breathing was ragged, and soon he slammed deep into Peter and groaned in triumph as his climax washed over him and he emptied himself wonderfully into Peter, who let his head droop, just a little as he felt the warmth washing through is insides.

“How was that, honey?” Tony crooned, pulling Peter’s head back up so he could kiss him while his hips were still jerking, dumping the last of his hot cum into the boy. “Did you like it?”

“Yes, daddy,” Peter answered, straining to kiss him. “It felt good.”

“Yeah, it did…” Tony pulled out and Peter felt him replace his cock with the butt plug, once more. “We’ll want to try _that_ again, later, I think,” he said, with a smug grin. The older man reached around to Peter’s penis, which was hard, but not achingly so. “Do you want me to take care of you, baby?”

“No.” He’d had a blowjob; he could wait. “I’m okay.”

Besides, he hadn’t had as much chance to become aroused as he normally did. It had happened a little more swiftly than he’d become used to. Probably Tony was just excited by the new toy and that had made things go quicker.

“I’ll take care of you tonight,” Tony promised, pulling his pants up and then straightening Peter’s as well and he brought the boy upright and hugged him. “Thank you, honey… that was wonderful. _You’re_ wonderful.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Let’s go finish making dinner. I’m _starving_.”

><><><><<> 

It felt awkward to sit with the plug inserted into him. It didn’t hurt, but it was odd. Peter found himself sitting with his hip just a little cocked in order to keep from putting his weight on it. Tony – who was fairly observant at the best of times, and more so when it came to Peter – noticed as he was putting the mashed potatoes on the table.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t look comfortable. Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Yeah No. I mean. I’m okay. It just feels weird.”

The billionaire smiled, leaning over to nuzzle Peter’s neck, lovingly.

“Good?”

“No. But not bad, either. I’m not sure,” he admitted.

“It’ll probably take some getting used to,” Stark conceded. “But you’ll _try_?”

“Yes.”

“That’s my brave boy.”

Which, of course, made Peter flush with pleasure and want to try as hard as he could for him.

When they were finished eating, Tony told Peter to go find something for them to watch and he’d take care of the dishes, which weren’t too bad, since Tony tended to clean things as he cooked. When he came out of the kitchen, telling FRIDAY to dim the lights, Peter was stretched on the couch with a documentary about Space Camp playing.

Tony sat down next to him, and Peter moved into his lap, but didn’t straddle him like he would normally have done, since he didn’t care for the pressure and the way the plug shifted when he started to move his leg over Tony’s. Instead he just sat crossways and rested his cheek under Tony’s chin.

“There is chicken left over,” the older man murmured, tenderly, his hand sliding under the sweatshirt Peter was wearing so he could caress his belly. “You can have that for lunch tomorrow, since I’m going to be working all day.”

“Okay.”

“You’re alright staying home alone?” he asked, stroking his stomach, but working his way lower.

“Yes.”

There really wasn’t much for Peter to do at the tower with Tony working, so it would probably be better for him to just stay home. He didn’t mind. At least, he didn’t think he did.

“We don’t want to hurt you, so we’ll go easy on how long you wear your plug,” Tony told him, his hand finding Peter’s cock, now, and stroking the length of it through his sweats. “I’ll take it out tonight, after we’re done playing, but I’ll put it back in tomorrow morning before I leave, so you’re ready for me when I come home.”

“I’d be ready for you, anyway,” Peter pointed out, wondering why Tony thought he needed the shortcut, at all. Had he done something wrong? Not done enough? “You don’t need to use that…”

Tony hugged him, close, kissing him.

“It’s exciting this way, honey. Such instant access to my baby’s ass. I can walk in and just bend you over and fuck you, fill you up and then plug it all inside you.”

It certainly sounded like it excited him, Peter thought, uncertainly. He could feel Tony getting hard under his leg.  Peter didn’t think it was really all that great, though. It was uncomfortable, and he rather liked it when Tony spent the time needed to stretch him playing with Peter’s ass, finding that spot inside him that made him jump every time he touched it. But maybe it was just him being unhappy about trying something new when he didn’t see anything that was wrong with the old.

He was certainly willing to admit that he didn’t know that much about such matters. Maybe it’d get better – like how the first time he’d had Tony inside him wasn’t so great, but it got much better after Tony had taught him how it was supposed to be.

“Okay.”

He turned his attention to the show, and to how good it felt when Tony was stroking him, like he was. Not so much that he was trying to drive him crazy with want, but enough to make him hard.

“Think you’d want to go to Space Camp?” Tony asked, watching the simulators that were being used by the young people on the screen while playing with Peter’s cock. He had his hand inside the boy’s sweats, now, loving just how good he felt against his fingers; how alive he was every time he found a particularly sensitive spot and made him twitch. “It looks like they’re having a good time.”

“I saw the movie,” he replied, closing his eyes in pleasure. “I don’t want to be accidentally launched into space when they do a test of the engine.”

“Did that _really_ happen?”

“In the _movie_ , it did.”

Which made the billionaire decide to have FRIDAY pull up the movie and they watched that, instead, with Tony paying less attention to the movie as it went on and more attention to Peter’s cock, which was now dripping precum and slicking his hand. By the time the movie was over and everyone had been brought safely back to earth, Peter was making delightful noises and his hips were moving almost on their own in time to Tony’s caresses. He kissed the boy, heatedly, and released his cock.

“Bedtime,” he said, and he felt another surge of anticipation. “Get ready and meet me in my bed, honey.”

Peter did as he was told, and smiled when Tony came out of his bathroom, naked and already hard and ready. He didn’t have any complaints with the way the older man pushed the blankets back and bent his head, taking Peter into his mouth and sucking him until he climaxed, while the boy writhed under him. He shivered when Tony flipped him onto his belly soon after that, and pulled the plug, again, but he couldn’t help but whine in disappointment when he once more simply pressed himself against Peter’s already open ass with just a lubed cock and slid into him without playing with him, first.

He enjoyed the way Tony made love to him; the man had already had him once, and because of that, he wasn’t in any real hurry and took his time, reaching around halfway through and finding Peter’s cock again and making him climax into his hand. But Peter felt discombobulated despite that, and when Tony came inside him, thrusting hard and telling him how amazing he was, and how perfect and wonderful he was, Peter didn’t feel like he was any of those things.

He sniffed, tucking his face against Tony’s side as the billionaire gathered him into his arms and pulled the blankets over them, to protect Peter from getting chilled.

“Are you alright?” he asked, sliding his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. I’m not hurt.” He hesitated, not wanting to disappoint, but remembering that Tony had told him that _he_ gets to choose, too. “I don’t like it,” he finally said, softly.

“What, honey?” Tony asked him, sleepily, feeling Peter's blush.

“The thing.”

“The thing?” he waited, but Peter didn’t expound. “The anal plug?”

“Yes.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Is it too big?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Why don’t you like it?”

Peter blushed harder, unable to respond with the exact reason, still unable to articulate what he wanted - or in this case, didn't want.

“ _Because_.”

Tony rolled his eyes and hugged the boy.

“That’s not a very good reason, baby. You just need to get used to it. We’ll try it for a few days, off and on so you can see how good it is. Okay?”

He sniffed, again.

“I don’t like it,” he said, petulantly.

“Well, _I_ do. You’re going to wear it all day tomorrow. That’ll give you a chance to get used to it.”

His voice was firm, even though his touch was loving, and Peter huddled against him and closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep, but even when he did, his own uneasiness and discord followed him, and he slept poorly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so it'll keep on, then - but it won't all be roses and candies


	63. 63

“Are you alright, honey?”

Peter shrugged, moodily. He hadn’t slept well the night before, and was tired and grumpy.

“Still sleepy…”

“You can go back to bed after you eat something,” Tony promised.

 _He_ was tired, too, really. Peter had tossed and turned, restlessly, no matter how much Tony soothed or caressed him, and that had kept him awake, as well. Since meeting the boy, he’d been sleeping fairly regularly, and was used to actually getting rest at night, so the lack of sleep was telling.

“Okay.”

Tony pulled Peter into the shower with him and woke himself up by spending time sliding his soapy washcloth along the boy’s body, washing both of them and stroking Peter’s cock, lightly. The older man loved to see how those beautiful brown eyes darkened when Peter was aroused, even when they were doing more than touching each other. He turned his attention to Peter’s rear, then, and had washed him thoroughly and slid his finger into him, making the boy respond with a soft moan that resonated wonderfully in the shower.

“You’re so beautiful, baby…” he crooned, sliding another finger in to join the first, stretching Peter, who was resting his face against Tony’s wet chest, leaning against him. “My beautiful boy.”

“Yes…”

“Come on” he said, releasing him and making sure they were both thoroughly rinsed before pulling him out of the shower and drying them both off. “Let’s get you ready for your day.”

The billionaire reached for the anal plug, which was sitting by the sink after Tony had cleaned it, but Peter shook his head.

“I don’t like that thing,” he said, looking away, not wanting to see how Tony was going to respond. “I don’t want it.”

“We _talked_ about this, honey,” Tony said. “It just takes getting used to.”

“I don’t like it.”

Stark frowned.

“Why?”

“ _Because_.”

“Peter…”

His voice was more annoyed, now – and exasperated, and Peter knew he was partially to blame, because he wasn’t telling him _why_ he didn’t like it. Didn’t like how using the thing bypassed his favorite part of their lovemaking, altogether. But he wasn’t the one being unreasonable.

“I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t _hurt_ you, though, right?”

“No.”

“Then why not try it? For _me_?”

“I _did_ try it. I don’t like it.”

“Do we need to get a smaller one? Maybe it’s bigger than you’re ready for.”

“It’s not too big, Tony,” Peter told him. “I already _said_ it doesn’t hurt.”

“Then what’s your problem?”

Peter blushed.

“It isn’t fun for me.”

“Oh.” Tony nodded, understanding. “Then I’ll get you one with a vibrator in it. You’d like that one, better, honey.”

“No. I don’t want any of them. I don’t _like_ it.”

“I do, though. What happened to me being the daddy? Being in charge?” he asked, annoyed, now.

Being told no wasn’t something he enjoyed – _ever_. Not in his work life or in his social life – and certainly not in his _sex_ life.

“What happened to me having a say in things?” Peter countered, turning his back and leaving the bathroom.

“You're not _saying_ anything, Peter,” Tony snapped, following him out and into the bedroom. Peter had seated himself on the edge of Tony’s bed, and was reaching for the sweats that he’d discarded the night before. “Just that you don’t like it.”

“I shouldn’t _have_ to say anything else.”

That brought Tony up short. He scowled, annoyed, because Peter was right – _of course_ – but that didn’t make him happy about it. He hated being in the wrong more than pretty much anything. And hated admitting when he was wrong, even more.

“Fine. You don’t have to wear it.”

But he was irritated, now, and it was the billionaire who turned away this time, going to his dresser for underwear and socks and then vanishing without another word into his walk-in closet to find a suit to wear.

Peter waited, wanting him to come out and tell him that he understood. Or that he wasn’t mad. Or at least that he still loved him, but he didn’t. He could hear Tony moving around, getting dressed _in_ the closet instead of returning to the main room, and decided that he probably wasn’t on his list of favorite people, just then, and he probably didn’t want to talk to him. Feeling hurt and upset, he slid his sweats on and went to the guest room to get dressed, too.

He was suddenly pretty cold.

When Tony came out of the bedroom, dressed and ready for his day, he didn’t see Peter waiting. The guest room door was closed, telling him where the boy was, at least, so he went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Still annoyed because he’d _really_ enjoyed the anal plug sex and now Peter’s baffling refusal to have anything to do with them meant it wasn’t going to happen again, he might have chopped the ham and vegetables for their omelets a little harder than usual, or scrambled the eggs more than necessary.

By the time he put the bread in the toaster, he was still annoyed, and the boy hadn’t made an appearance, yet – which was _also_ annoying.

“Peter, come eat.”

Uncertain if he’d heard, he asked FRIDAY to pass the message along that breakfast was ready, and looked up when the bedroom door opened a minute later. Peter walked out, dressed in jeans, socks and a black sweatshirt that Natasha had given him, but that Tony didn’t care for because it only emphasized how pale the boy was.

“Breakfast is ready,” Stark told him.

Peter nodded, and he walked over to the table and sat down, and Tony could see just how guarded his expression was; as though he was uncertain how his reception was going to be. That was understandable, the billionaire decided, since he didn’t know exactly how he felt, just then. He didn’t say anything as he buttered toast and slid Peter’s omelet and toast on to a plate and brought it over to set it in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah.” Tony filled him a glass of orange juice, too, but he ate _his_ breakfast standing at the island, watching as Peter refused to look at him and pushed his food around the plate. “Eat, Peter.”

Not honey, or baby, or sweetheart, the boy noticed, fighting back the sting of tears. Just _Peter_. He’d seen the annoyance in Tony’s expression when he’d sat down at the table, and could hear it in his voice. He was mad at him. Or _disappointed_ – which was equally bad. He took a bite of the omelet, obediently, and swallowed without tasting it.

The silence was unbearable.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be,” Tony’s reply was sincere, but he couldn’t help that even he could hear how annoyed he sounded. “You were right; you _do_ get a say in what we do, and you shouldn’t have had to tell me more than once that you didn’t like the anal plug. But it’d be nice to know what your problem with it is, so we could address it.”

That was fair. Peter blushed and kept his eyes on his breakfast.

“Itskipsallthegoodparts.”

Stark rolled his eyes, trying to determine what he’d just said – and then what he meant by it.

“ _Happy is pulling into the garage_ ,” FRIDAY announced. 

“I need to go. We’ll finish this conversation when I come home.” 

Peter nodded, but wouldn’t look up at him. Tony sighed, and was tempted to cancel his day – despite the wrath of Pepper it would have brought down on him, since the meetings were important. He put his plate in the sink and walked over to the table, sliding his fingers through Peter’s still damp hair. He hesitated, and then leaned over and pressed a kiss against the boy’s temple.

“Eat, okay? And don’t forget there’s chicken for your lunch. If you need anything, you can call me.”

“All right.”

Without another word, Tony left.


	64. 64

“You know, the meetings would be a lot more productive if you were actually paying _attention_.”

Stark scowled, looking up at Pepper, who had followed him into his office and was leaning against his desk, where he’d flopped into his chair.

“I’m paying attention.”

“Yeah? What was the last one _about_?”

He honestly couldn’t have told her.

_“Stark Industries.”_

She scowled.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Is it _Peter_?”

“ _No_.”

“So, it’s Peter? What’s going on? Tired of him, already?”

“I’m not _tired_ of him, at all, Pepper,” Tony snapped. “We just had a bit of a disagreement.”

“Let me guess… he wanted to eat something from a _box_ , and you wanted to feed him something homemade?”

“Funny.”

“So, what was the disagreement about?”

“Nothing.”

She rolled her eyes, now.

“Right. Which is why you’re so distracted.”

“I’m _fine_.”

“Then get your head out of your ass and pay attention, _please_. I don’t want to have to go over the Clift notes with you, later, for each of these meetings.”

“Fine.”

He watched her leave, still scowling, and turned to look out the window.

“FRIDAY? What’s Peter doing?”

_“Sitting on the balcony.”_

Which was what he’d been doing when he’d asked her to check on him _before_ the meeting, as well. And where he’d been most of the morning. Yes, he was using his AI to keep track of Peter, and maybe it wasn’t exactly _ethical_ , but he wanted to make sure the boy was alright. He had been so uncertain, earlier, and Tony was aware that he probably hadn’t handled things with him very well. Which wasn’t all that unusual, for _him_ , really. It was more uncommon that he’d gone and managed to find someone who seemed so perfect for him. So desirable. Someone that he honestly loved – and not just for a weekend, or for an evening.

He leaned back in his chair, still looking out the window.

“Sleeping?”

_“It doesn’t appear that he is.”_

“Did he have lunch?”

_“No. And he dumped his breakfast down the sink.”_

So she was a tattle-tale. He didn’t mind.

Tony frowned at that, still trying to figure out what his cryptic message about the anal plug had meant. He understood the words, but not really the meaning _. It skips all the good parts_? It didn’t skip _anything_ , really. Just the need to finger the boy. He’d still made sure to allow Peter _his_ pleasure, first, before he’d taken the plug out and had fucked him. Especially before bed. He’d sucked him off twice, just to reward him for being so willing to try something new.

He’d even said that he’d enjoyed it, and he had _seemed_ to.

“Why is he so _frustrating_?”

_“Because he isn’t doing what you want him to do.”_

“I didn’t ask _you_.”

She didn’t respond, but he still knew she was right.

He sighed. Fine, the anal plug wasn’t going to happen. But he still wanted to know _why_. Was it the thought of having something artificial inside him? Was it uncomfortable? He’d have to press the issue and try to get Peter to tell him a little more about what was going on inside that brilliant, stupid head of his. Otherwise he might as well not bother trying to introduce anything new into their sexual activities.

“Call Peter.”

There was a lengthy pause before he heard his voice, and he could tell by the background ambiance that he _was_ on the balcony.

_“Hello?”_

“Hi, honey. I’m just calling to hear your voice. What are you up to?”

_“Just sitting on the balcony.”_

He sounded tired to the billionaire’s perceptive ear.

“Did you have lunch, yet?”

_“No. Not, yet.”_

“Did you get a nap?”

_“Not, yet.”_

“I miss you.”

There was a pause, and he wondered what had caused it. Was the boy debating what his response was? Was he just relieved that Tony _wasn’t_ there, at the moment? Maybe he _didn’t_ miss him. Maybe he was mad at him. What if he had pressed him too much on the stupid anal plug issue and Peter was having second thoughts about their relationship?

He was well aware that the boy didn’t need him anywhere near as much as he needed Peter.

Tony felt the stirring of panic inside his chest; a heavy knot that made his pulse suddenly race and his skin feel clammy. He sat up in his chair, suddenly needing to pace, and forced all of that down with a deep, practiced breath before he let it get out of hand. Before he let himself succumb to the incipient panic attack.

_“I miss you, too.”_

The tightness in his chest eased, a little, at that simple phrase.

“Make sure you eat lunch, okay?”

_“I will.”_

“We’re having spaghetti for dinner. Meatballs?”

_“Yeah, that’s fine.”_

“I love you, Peter.”

_“I love you, too.”_

The call ended, and Tony sighed, running his fingers along the line of his facial hair, still staring out the window. He’d have to think of something to do for Peter. To make sure the boy understood how much he cared about him.

>>><<><<<>> 

Peter waited until the call was ended and then stood up, walking over to the safety railing of the balcony and looking down at the city below him. He shivered; not because of the height – he was fine with heights and always _had_ been – but because he was cold. It wasn’t raining, but it was threatening to, and had been all morning. He’d been on the balcony, needing the fresh air and the sensation of not being cooped up in the apartment, all morning.

Almost since Tony had left.

He wasn’t really thinking about anything, really. He was just allowing himself to wallow in a pool of self-pity. A big pool that was threatening to drown him. It wasn’t that big of a deal, he supposed, thinking back on the whole quazi argument that he’d had with Tony about the butt plug. He should have just allowed it. But he didn’t _like_ it, and had really expected his wants to be taken into consideration a little more quickly. Especially since Tony seemed to care how he was doing, and was always checking on him.

Case in point, the phone call that had just ended.

He sniffed, and wiped his nose with the sleeve of the sweatshirt. So maybe he wasn’t so mad at him, after all. Or – maybe – he _was_ mad, but wasn’t as mad as he _had_ been? He’d sounded sincere when he’d told him to eat something. Had sounded sincere when he said he loved him.

Peter felt a little less depressed at the thought. The knot in his stomach eased just a little and maybe he _was_ hungry, after all? He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, trying to think of something that he could do to tell Tony that he was sorry for refusing to do what he wanted. Aside from saying that he was sorry – since he’d already done that.

Something that didn’t include the anal plug, though.


	65. 65

“See you tomorrow morning, boss?”

Tony shook his head as he got out of the car.

“No. I think I’m going to take the day off. Take a _personal_ day.”

He was the owner of the company; he could do that, right?

The driver nodded, and shut the door behind him.

“Call if you need anything.”

“I will.”

“Tell Peter I said hi.”

“Definitely.”

He headed for the elevator, pulling his suit jacket off as he went and already loosening his tie. He’d spent a little time lost to the world in his workshop after the last meeting and was definitely ready for some quiet time with Peter. He hoped the boy wasn’t ready to eat, yet, because he just wanted a chance to put his feet up and relax for a while, first. Maybe talk about whatever it was that had bothered him.

He frowned when the elevator door opened, immediately smelling the distinct odor of something charred and noticing a faint haze of smoke along the ceiling, despite the apartment's hi-tech ventilation system.

“FRIDAY?” he asked, automatically. “Is something on fire?”

_“No. Not anymore.”_

“What?”

The billionaire turned toward the kitchen and froze. Standing at the island in front of the stove was Peter – who was _also_ frozen, looking like the proverbial deer in the headlights. The kitchen was a disaster; there were dirty mixing bowls strewn along the counter, the mixer itself was on the end of the island with another bowl still attached, the beaters sticky with some kind of gooey mess. There was a powdery white substance – _flour_ , he was certain – everywhere. It was on every surface of the kitchen, smeared on Peter’s black sweatshirt, jeans, on his face, and in his hair.

Tony saw cookie sheets stacked five high with various dark blobs on them – which was a puzzle in itself, since Stark was well aware that he only had 3 cookie sheets in the entire apartment. The milk was on the counter, there were eggshells everywhere, an open – and almost empty, bag of sugar laying on its side next to the mixer and a fair amount of smoke coming from the oven.

“Tony…” Peter finally said, breaking the silence as the older man took in the scene. “You’re… you’re home early.”

He nodded, finally able to move. He walked over to the island and stopped just short of the mess.

“Yes. I called it a day to come and spend some time with you.”

“Oh.”

“What’s going on?”

“I was… I thought I’d make you some cookies,” Peter told him, his brown eyes wide and slightly watery – probably because of the smoke coming from the oven that he was trying to ignore. “It… didn’t… um… yeah. It didn’t go quite like I _expected_.”

“Yeah?” He noticed that two eggs had fallen to the floor, breaking and splattered along the tile. “I _hope_ so…”

No one could _plan_ this, could they?”

“Don’t get mad,” the boy said, quickly, holding up a hand, placatingly. “I’ll clean it up. _Honest_. It just got a little out of hand.”

“ _Chernobyl_ got out of hand, honey,” Tony said, looking around. “This is a nightmare.”

“I’m sorry. Like I said, I’ll take care of it. Just… go sit down, or something.”

The older man walked over to the cookie sheets, close enough, now, to see that they held burned cookies. Five on the bottom one, _fifteen_ on the next, seven, two and then an even dozen. All _burned_ , though, and some uglier than others.

“Did _any_ turn out?” he asked, curiously.

“This next tray might,” Peter replied, looking away for the first time and down at the oven, opening it and frowning, before reaching in with an oven-mitted hand and pulling out a smoking sheet of charred disks, and setting it, sideways, on the top of the cookie sheet stack. “No. _None_.”

“Where did you find the cookie sheets?”

“Oh. I borrowed some.” Peter closed the oven door, taking off the mitt and wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, which smeared the flour already there. “From the lady that lives below you.”

“When did you meet her?”

Tony didn’t know it was a woman who lived below him. He’d never met any of the neighbors.

“In the lobby, when I was asking the concierge about finding more flour. She introduced herself and loaned me what I needed – after I used all of yours up.”

“She _did_?”

“Yeah. I owe her a dozen eggs, a bag of flour, sugar and some peanut butter.”

Stark looked at the cookie sheet that was still smoking a little on the rest of the stack.

“These are _peanut butter_?”

“No. I ran out of peanut butter. _This_ batch is chocolate chip.”

Tony walked back over to look into the mixing bowl. Sure enough, it looked like chocolate chip cookie dough.

“How many batches have you made?”

“Eight.”

_“Jesus…”_

“Don’t be mad,” he repeated, looking worried and much younger, suddenly. “I’ll take care of it. Just go relax.”

“I can’t _relax_ , Peter,” Tony told him, walking around to the other side of the island and noticing that the two eggs he’d seen on the floor weren’t even close to the only things that had obviously rolled off the counter. There were more eggshells there, and some flour and sugar and maybe even butter smeared – with a shoe print where Peter had probably slipped in it, from the looks of things. “This is going to take _hours_ to clean up.”

“And I’ll _do_ it. I _promise_.” Now his expression was anxious, clearly upset with himself. “Please…”

Tony held up a hand.

“Shh… I’m not mad. Okay?” Not _amused_ , really, though. “It’s alright.”

Peter’s eyes watered, and this time it wasn’t the smoking oven.

“I just wanted to surprise you.”

“You _did_.” He leaned over and brushed a kiss against the boy’s cheek, tender and gentle. “Do you have any more cookie sheets?”

Looking a little surprised, Peter nodded and pulled an empty one from the sink. It had been used before, but the boy had paid attention when Tony had been baking cookies, because it only had parchment paper in the bottom and whatever burned cookies had been there were now in the garbage.

Along with a fair number of others.

Stark took it and walked over to the mixing bowl, setting the sheet down and putting parchment paper down on it. Then he stepped back and hung his jacket over the back of a barstool before opening a drawer in the island and pulling out a small ice cream scoop. He then walked, carefully, back to the oven and turned the temperature down to 350.

“You can’t bake cookies at 450 degrees, honey,” he said. “They’re going to burn every time.”

Obviously.

“The recipe said 450.”

“Are you sure?”

Peter shook his head, no.

“I’ll double-check.”

“Later,” Tony told him. He walked back to the mixing bowl and started dropping cookie dough onto the empty cookie sheet, with Peter watching, silently, nervously waiting for the explosion that had to be coming. The billionaire finished, and handed the tray to the boy, double checking that the oven had dropped to the right temperature by then. “Put those in and set the timer for ten minutes.”

“Okay.”

He did, and Stark looked around.

“I’m going to go change. Then I’ll come help you clean this up.”

“I’ll do it,” Peter said. “It’s my mess.”

“Then I’ll come _supervise_.”

“Okay.” The boy looked around, and back at the billionaire, who was already unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Tony smiled and pulled him into his arms, hugging him close as he’d wanted to do all day. Of course, in his very vivid images, he didn’t have flour and butter suddenly smearing his front, probably ruining his shirt, and Peter didn’t smell like brown sugar.

“It’s alright, baby. This is one of those where we’ll rule it that it’s the thought that counts. Okay?”

Peter buried his face into Tony’s chest.

“Yeah.”

“But I’m not cooking, tonight,” he added. “We’ll order a pizza or something.”

He didn’t have any surface to even _try_ to cook on, especially spaghetti.

“Alright.”


	66. 66

When Tony returned to the kitchen, dressed now in lounge pants, a t-shirt and socks, Peter was on the floor of the kitchen, between the island and the counter. He was wiping up the eggs, flour and butter that Tony had seen on the floor. Sitting on the stove was the sheet of cookies that the billionaire had prepared, obviously out and cooling.

They looked perfect.

“Don’t slip on anything,” Peter warned him, hearing him coming and not looking up from what he was doing. There was a decidedly defeated note to the boy’s tone of voice.

“I’ll be careful.”

Even though he wasn’t _helping_ , Tony took all of the burned cookies – still on the sheets – to the trash and dumped them, as well as the parchment paper. Then he stacked the cookies sheets on the counter, to be washed. Staying on the non-appliance side of the island, he also took the newest sheet of cookies and put them on a plate so he could stack that sheet with the others as well.

While Peter was distracted with the floor, he also rinsed the beaters and righted the bag of sugar, wiping all the excess off the counter and into the mixing bowl. Then he put the milk and eggs back into the fridge.

“I can do that, Tony,” Peter assured him, looking up and seeing what he was doing.

Stark saw that his expression matched his voice. Decidedly downcast. He could understand. The cookies were an experiment, and had been a failure in every sense of the word. But it wasn’t the end of the world. Like anything, he could try again, another time, and they’d be the better for this hiccup. Peter just wasn’t seeing it that way, yet.

“It’s fine. What’s the neighbor’s name?”

“Monica. She’s nice.” He set a couple of soiled towels up on the counter, and reached for another to get the last of the butter. “She has a flower shop, she said.”

“I wonder what her boyfriend sends her for Valentine’s day…”

That produced a slight chuckle.

“Chocolates?”

“Every year? That could get boring.”

“She has a dog. Boomer. He’s big and playful. She said I could come pet him anytime, if I wanted.”

“That was nice of her.”

He’d have to meet the woman, though, before he really allowed that. Just to make sure she wasn’t someone who was going to try to use a chance encounter with Peter to become a less chance encounter with _himself_. Or worse; some kind of try at getting him into a relationship of some sort. It happened, and Tony was always cautious. But not enough to tell Peter to stay away from her. He’d wait and see.

“Yeah.” The boy got to his feet and tossed the other towel onto the growing stack of dirty ones. Then he opened the dishwasher and started putting mixing bowls into it, along with the spoons. “Did you have a good day? Aside from me ruining the surprise cookies and destroying your kitchen?”

Tony nodded, leaning against the counter, plucking one of the cookies from the plate and taking a bite – and tried to hide his grimace at the taste. They _looked_ delicious, but he’d obviously used way too much salt in the mix, because they were _terrible_. Luckily, Peter hadn’t noticed. He was concentrating on the dishes.

“I thought about you all day. It was _great_.”

That made Peter blush, as he’d hoped it would.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “As a matter of fact, after my meeting, I looked Bruce up and got your new web fluid from him so I could adapt the new shooter to it. It’s loaded and ready to be tested.”

Peter looked over; eyes excited.

“Really?”

“Yes. I was thinking, if you’re not busy tomorrow, we could drive up to the compound and try them out.”

“Wow. You don’t have to work?”

“Took the day off. Steve and Bruce are interested in seeing how the stuff works – and so am I, I admit. Interested?”

“Sure. Of _course_.”

“Good.”

Peter turned back to finish loading the dishwasher and Tony wiped down all the surfaces with a clean cloth, then tossed it and the others into a hamper. The housekeeper could deal with them, later. The boy looked around, making sure that he hadn’t missed anything.

“It looks better.”

“It’s fine, honey,” Tony assured him. “You’re a mess, though. Go change, okay? You’re covered in flour.”

“Yeah.”

He left and the billionaire watched to make sure that he was gone, and then tossed the plate of well-baked but absolutely awful cookies into the garbage as well and then dumped it all into the compactor to hide the evidence. Then he washed his hands and went into the living room and sat on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table and leaning back into the leather, closing his eyes, tiredly.

It had been a long day, really, and he was short on sleep from Peter’s restless night.

“Can I sit with you?”

He opened his eyes, surprised at the question. Looking at Peter, he saw that he was hesitant and uncertain, standing beside the sofa, now wearing sweats and a blue sweatshirt. He’d managed to get the flour out of his hair and had washed his face.

“Of course, you can, honey,” Tony told him, patting the spot beside him. “I’m not upset about the kitchen. Don’t worry.”

The boy sat down, but Tony noticed he didn’t climb into his lap as the older man hoped that he would. He was definitely in the mood to cuddle.

“What about _earlier_ …?” Peter asked. “Are you mad?”

Tony shook his head.

“No. I wasn’t mad at you, at all – just so you know. Mad at me, _frustrated_ with you.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” he sighed, and brushed his palm against Peter’s cheek. “Ready to communicate?”

Peter looked down at his hands, which were in his lap, and Stark could feel his cheek warming under his palm.

“I already _told_ you.”

“No.” Tony corrected. “You mumbled something and then I had to go. It’s not the same. You _trust_ me, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me what happened, so I don’t do it, again.”

“You didn’t do anything, Tony.”

“Must have, honey, because I thought we were having a good time.”

The boy wouldn’t look up at him, so Tony didn’t realize that he was crying until he saw a tear fall into the cloth of the sweatshirt’s arm, darkening the gray fabric.

“I didn’t like it.”

“Which part, honey?” Tony asked him, gently, deciding to pick it apart. “I sucked on you and made you feel good. That was alright, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Then I took out the plug. Did that hurt?”

“No.”

“Did you like it?”

“It didn’t hurt.”

“The only other thing that I did was stick my penis into you. You didn’t like _that_?”

“No. I liked that. It felt good. Really good.”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Peter, you’re _killing_ me, baby. I can’t figure out what’s missing. _Help me_.”

The boy leaned over and put his head on Tony’s leg, burying his face against his hip.

“Youdidn’tplaywithmefirst.”

It was muffled.

“What?”

He moved his chin a little to free his mouth, but kept his nose and above pressed into Tony, his eyes closed.

“I _said_ , youdidn’tplaywithme…”

“What do you mean? I _sucked_ -“

“With my _rear_ ,” Peter interrupted, digging his face deeper into Tony’s hip, flushing.

“Oh.” _Oh_. He looked down at the boy, who was practically curled into a ball, now, refusing to look anywhere but into his side. Tony assumed he had probably closed his eyes, tightly, as well. “You like it when I play with your ass and get your ready…? When I finger you?”

Peter nodded; his voice muffled when he replied.

“Yes.”

Which was the whole point of the plug; to skip that part, entirely. No wonder he wasn’t happy with the thing.

“Poor baby…” Tony slid has hand along Peter’s hip, comforting him. “I got you used to it, and then took it away.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“Look at me, honey.”

Peter turned his head, looking up at him with one big brown eye, the other hidden by the hood of his sweatshirt and Tony’s pants.

“Yeah?”

“You have to tell me _why_ you don’t like something. That way I don’t think you’re just being stubborn.”

“It’s _hard_ ,” he told him. “I’m no good at it. It comes out wrong – or not at _all_ , sometimes.”

“Then you need to work on it,” he chided, brushing his knuckle against Peter’s cheekbone. “ _We’ll_ work on it. I spent the day going crazy trying to decide if I’d somehow hurt you and you just weren’t telling me.”

“I’m sorry.”

He sighed.

“I didn’t say that to make you apologize, baby. It’s just to underscore how important it is that we communicate. It’s part of being in a relationship with someone – and _especially_ being in one with someone like me. I can be a real asshole, sometimes, and you need to be able to rein me in when I start doing something that you don’t like – or don’t want to do. Otherwise, there are going to be a lot of hurt feelings on both sides, and I don’t want that.”

“I don’t, either.”

“Good.” He smiled down at the boy. “Have I told you, yet, today, how _pretty_ you are?”

Peter shook his head, smiling.

“No.”

“You are. My precious boy. Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

“So am I. How about Chinese food, though, instead of a pizza?”

“That sounds good. We can have _cookies_ for dessert.”

_Yeah_ …

“I’m afraid we _can’t_. They ended up in the garbage. I dropped them when I was moving them to the other counter. I’m sorry.”

There was a time to tell the truth, and there was a time for a white lie. This was not a time to tell the boy the surprise that he’d worked on all day had been terrible.

“It’s okay. We can make more some other day.”

“ _Together_ , though, alright, honey?”

Peter nodded and buried his face against Tony’s hip, again, feeling better about everything.

“Yes.”


	67. 67

While they waited for their dinner to arrive, the two of them simply stayed right where they were. Both were tired; the restless night and the emotional day – separate though they had been – was catching up to them, and neither was really in the mood to do more than just be still and enjoy the other’s company. Peter still had his cheek resting on the Tony’s thigh, his face no longer snug into the fleshy part of his hip, but still close to it, seeking comfort in the contact but not just ready to cuddle in his lap.

Tony slid his hand along Peter’s side, not trying to arouse him, or anything, just wanting to touch him, and make sure he knew how cherished he was.

Something the billionaire had been reminded of that very day.

“My baby,” he crooned, sifting his hand through Peter’s hair and smiling down at him when Peter’s head turned to allow him to look up at him. “We’re not going to stay up too late, tonight, alright? I want to leave bright and early tomorrow.”

Peter nodded; that was fine.

“Who’s going to be there?”

“Depends on who hears about it, I imagine. They all are going to want to see what you can do – _I’m_ interested in seeing it up close and in person, too – so if they are around, I suspect you can expect a small audience. We’ll keep the numbers down to the core group, though. The SHIELD guys don’t have any reason to know what your particular skillset is, after all. And the less people who know your alter-ego, the less chance of someone blurting it out to a family member or something.”

“True. Will Bruce be there?”

“Yes. He’ll want to study the webbing and make sure it dissolves the way you guys expect it to. It _better_ , or the gym is going to be unusable for days while it gets cleaned.”

Peter smiled at that, but before he could respond, FRIDAY announced the delivery person was at the elevator. Tony cleared them to come up, and Peter moved his head enough to allow the older man to get up. He sat up while Tony retrieved dinner and had the AI lock the elevator down once the delivery person was gone.

“Are we going to be there all day?” Peter asked, watching as Tony sorted out who got what food.

“I don’t know.” Stark sat beside Peter. “Did you want to do something while we’re there?”

“If Bruce would let me, I’d be interested in seeing his transformation videos.”

“Yes, he’s going to let you, I know…” Tony nodded, approvingly. “It’s definitely interesting, and something that you should see, so you know his abilities, like he knows yours. Eat.”

Since the boy had dumped most of his breakfast without tasting it and had only had a chicken leg for lunch before he’d started his disastrous baking attempt, Peter was hungry, and worked his way through the large meal while he and Tony watched a documentary on mining operations in the Rocky mountains. Tony was noticing a pattern with Peter; he loved movies and knew many by heart, but he was also a big fan of any show that could teach him something – like educational documentaries.

Which was fine. They were going to have to address his schooling, eventually, but Tony had his own ideas about that, and was half-heartedly waiting to hear what Peter wanted to do before they decided what school he was going to be going to.

The show ended about the same time Tony finished eating. Peter was done long before that, and had once more put his head on Tony’s leg – only this time he was turned away from the billionaire’s hip so he could watch the show. Stark set his empty container aside and ran his hand along Peter’s side, sliding it under his sweatshirt and tracing his fingertips along the boy's ribs.

“Still awake?”

“Mm-hmmm.”

It didn’t sound like he was _very_ awake, though.

“Go get ready for bed, honey. I’ll be there, shortly.”

“Okay.”

Peter sat up, and stretched, and Tony caught him in a kiss before he could move any further. A gentle kiss that became more heated when Peter sighed into it, the moan exciting Tony and making him automatically run his hand along the boy’s stomach and lower to check his state of arousal. He chuckled, pulling away.

“My baby’s _hard_ …”

Peter blushed, but nodded.

“You do that to me,” he said. “Just being with you, sometimes.”

“The feeling is entirely mutual,” he assured the boy. “I’m going to get this cleaned up.”

He watched as Peter vanished into his room, and then Tony picked up the few dishes from their dinner – considering that they ate out of the to-go boxes for the most part – and then told FRIDAY to close things down for the night while he walked to the island to throw the garbage out.

By the time he was finished with that, and had gone into his bathroom to do his own nightly ritual of washing, cleaning and flossing, Peter had found his way into his room – _and_ into his bed. Which thrilled Tony every time. He walked over and looked down at the by, who was snuggled under the covers, but watching him, his brown eyes sleepy and soft.

Tony undressed, and watched Peter’s gaze trail the length of his body as he did. He smiled, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

“Room for me?”

“Sure.”

The boy pulled the blankets back, revealing that he wasn’t dressed – not surprisingly, of course – and Tony slid in beside him and gathered him up against his belly and chest, turning on his side to be able to see him, better.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured into Peter’s ear, brushing his lips against it and nibbling on the lobe just so he could feel him tremble. “My beautiful boy.”

Peter smiled, flushing with pleasure at the compliment.

“I love when you do that, daddy.”

“Why do you think I do it?” he asked, his hand stroking Peter’s cheek. “How do you feel, honey?”

“ _Sleepy_. You?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.” He smiled. “But yours isn’t over, just yet, baby. Roll over for me.”

Peter pulled away enough to do what he was told, turning himself in Tony’s embrace and then moving back against his warm body, and sighing when he felt his big hand run along his hip, and then to his rear. Tony pushed him just a little, situating him so that he was more on his belly, and then slid his fingers along Peter’s crack.

“Daddy…”

“Shhh, baby. Daddy’s going to play with you for a little while. Okay?”

He trembled, his body responding not just to the touch, but to the love in the older man’s tone. And the desire he heard there.

“Yes, daddy.”

Tony smiled, even though Peter couldn’t see it, and reached for some lube. He didn’t need much, though. Not for what he was doing. The billionaire slicked his fingers and then slid one into Peter’s tight hole, teasing him with the single digit while Tony turned Peter’s head to kiss him, lovingly.

“My brave boy,” he said, in between kisses. “My beautiful baby boy.”

His calloused fingertip found Peter’s sweet spot, then, and the boy arched his back as Tony stimulated him, closing his eyes in bliss and making a noise that made Stark smile and redouble his attentions.

“Open your eyes, honey,” he said, gently. “I want to watch you.”

Those glorious brown eyes opened, again, and Tony slid another finger into the boy, caressing him and teasing him, but not actually _stretching_ him. He had no intention of actually sliding himself into the boy. He was just making up for lost time and enjoying the reaction he was getting. Peter was beginning to rock his hips in time with the movements that Tony’s fingers were making, his eyes dark, now, with lust.

“Daddy… please…”

“You love that, don’t you, honey?”

“Yes, daddy… yes.”

How had he _missed_ it? Of course, he was usually _behind_ Peter, and not watching his face like he was, just then, but still.

“My beautiful boy. So _perfect_. So amazing.”

Peter whined, his body trying to escape the pleasure and demand more of it all at the same time, and Tony used his hand to send him to the edge of his climax, only to bring him back – and he hadn’t even _touched_ that dripping cock that was working the bedding. He kissed Peter, again, nibbling his lower lip, which then vanished between Peter’s teeth as the boy concentrated on what he was experiencing. What Tony was doing to him.

The older man pulled his fingers out of Peter and rolled him onto his back, once more and before Peter realized what was happening, Tony had his cock in his mouth, deepthroating him and slurping the precum from the head and shaft, where it had trickled.

“Yes, daddy… oh god, please, don’t stop…”

He hummed against the boy's cock and Peter gasped and then groaned as his climax overtook him, almost unexpectedly. Tony caressed him, wordlessly demanding that the boy feed him every drop and Peter’s hips bucked, urgently, as he tried to do just that.

Eventually, he settled with a gratified noise that made Tony chuckle as he licked the base of Peter’s cock.

“You’re _amazing_ , Peter Parker,” Tony whispered as he gathered his baby into his arms once more, double checking to make sure the blankets were up and around him, and guiding the boy's face to his shoulder. “Don’t ever let me deny you what you want, again. Understand?”

“Yes, daddy.” He closed his eyes with another satisfied noise, and then sent searching fingers down to Tony’s hard cock. “What about you?”

Stark chuckled and kissed him, closing his eyes.

“I can wait. Go to sleep, honey.”

Peter nodded and did just that.


	68. 69

“Are you about ready, honey?”

“I’m _coming_.”

Tony smirked, amused as he always was when he heard someone say that – and more amused that it was Peter.

“No, you’re not; you’re just breathing hard,” he muttered the tagline to the old joke softly enough that Peter couldn’t have heard it – even with his enhancements.

The billionaire was in a good mood. For one thing, he’d slept incredibly well the night before. Of course, he’d had Peter in his arms; the boy’s body pressed right up against him, keeping him warm and stealing his body heat at the same time. More importantly, he was a steady presence that kept the nightmares away.

The other reason Tony was in such a good mood was _also_ Peter. He’d woken that morning with the boy’s head under the blankets and his ass in the air. Even better, his mouth was firmly latched onto Tony’s cock, and he was already well on the way to getting Tony off. Stark had initially thought he was dreaming, and it had been such a good dream, but when he woke, the reality had been so much better. He’d simply palmed Peter’s ass and had crooned words of encouragement until he practically exploded into the boy’s mouth.

The best way to wake up, ever, as far as he was concerned.

They’d showered – and Tony had been amused when he’d found a chocolate chip in Peter’s thick hair – but hadn’t mentioned it. When they were both clean, and Tony had had a chance to suck Peter in the shower, they’d dried off and dressed, and Peter had seated himself at the kitchen island and chatted with Tony while the older man had made them a hearty breakfast. Tony had done dishes, while Peter went to collect his backpack, although instead of homework, it had a large supply of the newest version of web fluid and the new spinners as well as Peter’s original ones.

“FRIDAY?”

_“He’s coming.”_

Before Tony could call him again – or use the same reply to the AI – Peter came out of the guestroom, looking cheerful and alert. He was wearing jeans, a green shirt that was barely noticeable under the gray SHIELD sweatshirt that he had on against what would be a morning chill that Tony had promised him wouldn’t last long, since Stark had remotely started the car and it was warming up as they waited.

“Sorry,” Peter said, smiling an apology that Tony didn’t need – but was always willing to be smiled at. “The right side shooter was under the bed. I couldn’t find it.”

“We’re not in any hurry, honey,” Tony assured him. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Peter flushed, as Tony knew he was going to, and ducked his head just a little.

“Thank you, daddy.”

They loaded into the elevator, with Tony’s hand on the small of Peter’s back, and the boy turned and pressed his lips against Tony’s neck.

“What was that for?” the billionaire asked.

“Just because I love you.”

“You're _killing_ me, Peter.

The boy smiled.

>>><<><><<<>>>> 

The drive to the compound wasn’t a short one. It didn’t matter, though, because it gave them a chance to talk. Peter wanted to discuss the new nanotech that was going to be used in the newest suit, but Tony had a different topic in mind that he wanted to address, first. Something that he’d discussed a few days before with Pepper – and then with Bruce.

“Let me ask you something,” Tony said, as they drove out of the city and the crazy traffic, freeing his attention up for a little conversation. “And don’t overthink the question – or let the answer bother you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Do you have any close friends at your school?”

“What?”

“Friends,” Tony repeated, glancing over at him, briefly, to try and gauge how he felt about the school – and the people in it. “Anyone that you’d miss if you didn’t go back there?”

“Are they kicking me out?”

“Nope.” He set his hand on the boy’s thigh. “Answer the question, honey.”

“No. Not really. A few people that have the same classes with me that I see more than others, but…”

“But if you’d have had anyone _close_ , then they would have known what was going on with you and could have told someone – even if you didn’t want them to.”

“Yeah.”

“I was thinking that you might benefit from a different learning dynamic. Since I have you to myself right now, I thought I’d address the question.”

“What do you mean?”

“What if we _homeschooled_ you, instead of having you back in that school?”

Peter frowned. He could tell from Tony’s tone and expression that he didn’t like the school – or maybe the administrators – and he wasn’t trying too hard to hide it. Of course, Peter was pretty sure that Tony blamed the school for him being homeless. _He_ didn’t, though, because he was the one that had kept things secret.

“Can we do that?”

“Pepper says we can. All students can be homeschooled. It’s just a matter of getting the curriculum and having you work on it and be able to pass the exams.”

“How would that work?” 

Tony shrugged.

“I suppose it depends on what you decide you want to do. If the solution that you think works best for you has you with me – in any capacity – then I’d take responsibility for your schooling. I don’t have to have a teaching certificate – and if I did, I would get one. You could work from home, or we could set you a place in the tower as your room, or _office_ or whatever word you want to use.”

“You’d be willing to do that?”

“Of course. Even more, if I’m not free, Bruce has already pointed out that his name has more initials after it than mine does, and he’d be willing to help out – so would the others, in whatever capacity needed.”

The _Avengers_ would homeschool me?”

Tony smiled at the awe in his voice.

“If you thought that it would be best for you, yes. We think it would. I’m normally a huge fan of having a kid in a school – where they can socialize with people their own age and have friends. You, however, had that opportunity, and the jackals there didn’t bother. We think you’d be better off with us – even though most of us are old enough to be your parents.”

“Wow.”

“I suppose Steve could cover history… Bruce and I have the sciences down, of course… Nick has a degree in Modern Literature – although he won’t _admit_ that to anyone – so that’d cover English, grammar and sentence structure. Rhodey and Sam both have political science degrees.”

“What about Natasha?”

He shrugged.

“She can be the PE teacher. Is spying and assassination taught in your school? It’s been a while since I’ve been.”

Peter smiled.

“They _really_ said they didn’t mind?”

“Yeah. They want you to succeed – and to be _happy_. None of us think that your school can give you that environment. It’s your choice, however, okay? And not one that you have to make, right now. But we _will_ want to get things set into motion as far as your schooling – whatever you decide you want to do.”

“Wow…”

Tony didn’t point out that he’d already said that. He just took Peter’s hand and set it on his leg so he could cover it with his own.

“Just think about it, okay?”

“Yeah. I will.”

>>>><><><><> 

There were only two people waiting for them when they arrived at the compound. Steve and Natasha. Both walked over to the car when Tony parked it in front of the building; Steve went to Tony’s side of the car and Natasha went to Peter’s door and opened it, greeting the boy with a smile and a hug when he got out of the car.

“Good morning.”

Peter blushed, even though she hadn’t done more than said hello and gave him what had been a very chaste hug.

“Good morning.”

“How was the drive?”

“It was fine,” Tony said, getting out of the car and looking at Steve. “If you hug me I’m going to scream.”

Rogers smirked.

“You’re safe with me. Natasha has a crush on Peter – don’t tell him.”

Since he was all of ten feet away, there was no way that Peter hadn’t heard, and Romanoff made a show of covering Peter’s ears.

“And now the world will be without Captain America… because I’m forced to kill him.”

Peter laughed, outright, and Tony chuckled.

“Is everything laid on?”

“Yeah. We did what we could to set up the gym – it’s the tallest building we have.” He looked at Peter. “You don’t mind giving us a demonstration while you’re checking out your new shooters?”

“No.”

It was flattering that anyone other than Bruce and Tony were even interested.

“You brought them?”

“Yes.”

Natasha frowned and put her hand on his forehead.

“You’re feeling okay? Had breakfast? Slept last night?”

Peter smiled.

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go. I’m looking forward to this.”

“It’s not that exciting,” Peter admitted. “Seen one guy run up a wall, you’ve seen them all…”

Steve laughed, outright, and looked at Stark.

“You’re coming?”

“Of course.”


	69. 69

They walked to the gym as a group and when they arrived Peter saw that there were a few others waiting, as if they’d been told he and Tony had arrived and were heading to give them demonstration. Peter smiled at Robert, Sam and Nick Fury, as Bruce came over to double check that the version of fluid was the proper one for the wrist devices Tony had built.

“Are you ready?” Bruce asked Peter.

The boy rolled up his sleeves a little to attach the web shooters to his wrists, rolling them to get them settled. Then he wiggled his fingers while looking around. The basketball nets were down and the bleachers were out. The ceiling was high enough to give Peter an idea of distance, and he could leap from the bleachers if he needed to in order to get some momentum.

Normally, he’d just fling himself off a building.

“Yes.”

“We’ll get out of your way,” Steve said, leading the others to where Sam, Robert and Nick were sitting on one of the bleachers.

They greeted Tony with nods and then they turned when Peter moved at a trot toward the bleachers on the other side and leaped to the top of them. Before they realized what he was planning, the boy jumped off the top of the bleachers, flinging his arm out and shooting webbing. It caught the ceiling and he used his momentum to swing himself at an impossibly fast rate toward them, then changing directions with another shot of webbing, and going back the way he’d come.

“Wow…” Sam said.

“Interesting in a gym,” Steve said. “Ridiculously _dangerous_ on a building…”

“No fear of heights, I assume,” Fury murmured, more to himself.

The boy shot a web at the support structure of one of the basketball hoops and came into an arc on the other side of the large room. His centrifugal force brought him around the turn at a dizzying speed and he jerked his hand up to shoot another web in mid-swing when the line supporting him snapped, suddenly, and he went barreling into the bleachers with a heart-stopping crash and an explosion of wood and metal brackets.

They were on their feet immediately.

_“Jesus!”_

As a group they reached him, just as he came out from under the now damaged bleacher structure, a small scratch on his temple trickling the smallest line of blood down his cheek.

“I’m okay,” he assured them when he saw them all coming at him. “The _line_ snapped, Bruce. We might need to-“

He was interrupted by Tony.

“You’re _bleeding_.”

“Let me see,” Robert said, already stepping up. He was the doctor, after all. “Tilt your head, Peter. I need a little more light.”

“I’m alright,” Peter told them – again. “It didn’t really even hurt.” He looked at the battered bleachers. “I broke your bleachers, though. _Sorry_.”

Tony rolled his eyes, torn between concern and relief.

“It’s fine. Let Robert look you over.”

“It was just a fall,” the boy said. “I’ve done worse. Really. Banged into walls and fell off rooftops – all kinds of things. The formula is probably just a little off, Bruce. Maybe we went a little light on-“

“Let’s get you sat down for a minute,” Robert interrupted, automatically going into doctor mode – of course.

“I’m fine.”

“Just do what he tells you, Peter,” Tony said. “It’s old news to you that you crashed and burned, but it’s very new for us. We need to reassure ourselves.”

“You hit pretty hard,” Sam added, as they all walked with him back to the other set of bleachers and Robert sat Peter down on them, reaching for an alcohol pad and opening it.

“Yeah, I had a lot of force going into the last swing."

“Your suit should be fitted out with a bubble-wrap option,” Natasha said, hovering like the rest, but obviously relieved that he seemed to be fine, just like he was telling them.

Peter smiled at that, and then winced and hissed with pain when the medicated pad touched his cut.

“Don’t be a baby,” the doctor told him, his tone amused. The kid slammed into bleachers and practically destroyed them, but a little sting of alcohol makes him flinch? “This will only take a second.”

“Is he alright, Robert?”

“Seems to be. It’s pretty small. I’m not even going to use a band-aid on it.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Peter said, looking over at Tony, even though his head was still in Robert’s grasp. “Probably no more swinging, though, until we modify the formula.”

Bruce nodded.

“The tensile strength is where it failed, probably.” He gave Peter a look that the boy wasn’t quite able to decipher, but he also looked impressed. “Your formula never failed like this?”

“Oh yeah. _Several_ times. I worked it all out in the middle of the night – obviously – and on rooftops and in narrow alleys so I wouldn’t fall too far when it broke.”

“Kid’s a _genius_ , Stark,” Fury said.

“Yeah, he is,” Bruce agreed, smiling. “I’ll start working on the new one.”

“Arms and legs are okay?” Tony asked Peter.

“Seem to be. I’m _tough_.”

The billionaire wasn’t the only one to smile at that.

“Robert? Think we should do x-rays? Just to make sure he didn’t break anything?” Steve asked.

_He_ was used to taking a fall like that, no problem. But Peter was just a scrawny, underweight kid and it had looked horrific.

“Peter? Walk to the other side of the room and back for me.”

The boy did what he was told, thinking that it was great to have someone – some _ones_ , in this case – worry about his well-being, but if they were going to be like this every time he took a simple spill, he wasn’t going to be able to get much done. He watched Tony as he walked back, but he seemed to have gotten over his own shock at Peter’s fall, and while he _was_ watching him, carefully, he wasn’t frowning like he had been.

“No limping,” the doctor observed. “His stride is fine. If you start hurting, make sure you let someone know.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“End of the demonstration for today, folks,” Tony told them. “We’ll work on modifications and let you know when the next show will be.”

“Preferably without the tumble,” Romanoff told Peter, sliding a hand on his shoulder, looking relieved that he was alright. “You about gave me a heart attack.”

“Me, too,” Fury said. “I’m going to go get a drink.”

It wasn’t even _close_ to five o’clock, but oh well.

“I’m going to go to my lab, here,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “We’ll figure out the difference, and keep the viscosity. Where are you two going to be?” he asked Tony.

“In my workroom,” Stark replied. “Call or come by if you need us.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” Peter said. “The new webbing is a lot finer – I really _like_ it.”

“If we can keep it from snapping on you.”

The boy shrugged.

“I figured the first set out in school during free time and _I’m_ not a brilliant scientist. I’m sure you can figure it out – if _anyone_ can.”

Banner smiled at that, and Tony was amused to see that his friend was actually blushing a little.

“Come on, Peter,” he said. “I want to get your opinion on the new shooters.” He looked at the others. “We’ll meet for lunch?”

“Sure.”

>>><<<><><><>>>

“You’re _sure_ you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

Tony closed the door to his workroom, and FRIDAY locked it, automatically. The billionaire hated interruptions when he was working and even more; didn’t like when people walked in when he was deep in thought and subject to being startled. Then he turned to Peter.

“Get naked.”

The boy froze, startled.

“What?”

Stark grinned, amused by the response – which had been just as startled as he’d hoped.

“I want FRIDAY to get an accurate scan of your body, honey. Natasha mentioned a bubble wrap option in your suit when you took your tumble, but it occurs to me – and has a few times in the past weeks – that you don’t _have_ a suit, and we need to correct that.”

“How?”

“I’m going to make you one.”

His eyes widened.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I threw out the other one; it’s only fair I replace it.”

“Wow.”

“Don’t get _too_ excited, now,” Tony warned him. “It’s not going to be an Ironman suit. What you do requires a lot more flexibility than anything metal will give you, so it’ll have to be fabric – of some kind. I’ve been looking into options.”

“Still…”

“Yeah.” He gestured at the boy. “So, get _naked_ for me. Let’s get you scanned. Keep the webshooters on, though. They’re going to be necessary. And your underwear – unfortunately. Probably don’t want you going commando in the suit.”

Peter pulled his sweatshirt off, and blushed when FRIDAY started playing stripper music in the background. The billionaire snorted, amused, and took the boy’s sweatshirt, and then watched as he undressed. He noticed that Peter hadn’t come out from his tumble as unscathed as they might have hoped.

There were several marks that were going to end up being bruises – some on his back and some along his arms and legs.

“You don’t hurt?” he asked as Peter stood in his boxers. His _Ironman_ boxers, Tony saw, smiling despite the bruising.

“No. I’m okay. _Really_.”

Stark stepped up to him and slid his arms around Peter’s waist, unable to resist and really, there was no reason for him to even try. Peter sighed, and rested his cheek against Tony’s chest.

“You’re so beautiful, honey. So wonderful. I was so proud of you; swinging around the gym like that. So amazing.”

Peter trembled, melting against Tony’s body, soaking up the praise and the love in equal measures while the billionaire reassured himself that his baby really hadn’t taken any harm in his fall. _That_ had been scary.

“Thanks, daddy,” Peter whispered.

Tony reluctantly pulled away. It wasn’t _cold_ in the workroom, but it was too chilly for Peter to be running around undressed. He pressed a gentle kiss against his ear, feeling his own thrill at being called daddy in such loving tones.

“Stand still for a moment.”

As soon as he was separate, FRIDAY took the scans needed to make sure the new suit wasn’t going to be baggy. Tony handed Peter his pants.

“The fluid failure aside,” he asked as Peter started dressing. “How did the shooters work for you?”

“They were perfect.” Of course, he’d designed them based on the old ones, so of course they were exactly what he needed. “The motion was really smooth, and it cut off exactly where it needed to.”

“Good. Any modifications needed?”

Peter held up his left hand.

“This one pinched a little when I swung with my weight on it. Think we could work on that?”

“Yeah.”

He pulled the boy over to the table and settled him on a stool, already working on a string of different ideas for the suit, even while he started asking Peter questions about what needed adjusting and where.

The boy watched Tony; his brown eyes almost fixated on the older man as he found himself someplace that he never in a million years would have dreamed he could be.


	70. 70

It was a measure of just how brilliant – or maybe, focused on the problem – Bruce was that by the time he joined Peter, Tony, Steve and Natasha in the lounge at lunch time, he had a new version of fluid to have Peter try. They’d already dumped the last version, so after lunch, Peter and Tony loaded it into the webshooters, and Peter had given the gym another try.

This time the demonstration went off without a hitch – even though all the adults tensed any time the boy went into any kind of a turn, and eventually Peter ended up standing upside down on the ceiling, rubbing his wrists, with the hood of his sweatshirt falling down over his head  and threatening to fall off his skinny frame entirely, until he’d flipped and landed in the classic superhero stance – probably without even noticing it.

He was practically wriggling with happiness; Tony was amused to see. Between the adults being so relieved that he hadn’t taken anther spill and heaping praise on how impressive his demonstration was (and it _had_ been incredible) and the fact that he now had a newer, better version of his web fluid, the boy was glowing. Stark and Bruce waited in the gym with him for an hour, even though the others had to leave for their other responsibilities, and sure enough the webbing started dissolving at the correct time.

Peter had heaped praises on Bruce, who had taken it almost as cheerfully as Peter had. Tony watched them interact for a few minutes and then mentioned to Banner that Peter was interested in seeing his transformation videos. Peter blushed, but Bruce only smiled; he was a long way from the time when he might have been embarrassed or self-conscious about his change.

Instead, they’d gone to his lab and had spent a little time going over the videos, which Peter watched with a combination of infatuation and horror to see such a violent reaction take place in Bruce’s body. He kept looking over at the scientist, and then comparing him to the creature on the video.

“A real Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, huh?” Bruce commented, well aware why he was doing it.

 _He’d_ done it, too.

“Yes.”

“The big guy saved my life, though,” Tony said, sitting on the edge of the table Bruce normally ran his experiments on. “Bruce _hasn’t_. Big guy; one – Banner, nothing.”

Peter had smiled at that – as had Bruce. Then Tony told them both that it was time for the two of them to head back to the city.

“I had a good time,” Peter told him, buckled in and watching as Tony drove them off the compound grounds and onto the highway heading south. “Thanks.”

“Yeah?” Stark smiled. “I’m glad. So did I.”

He should take personal days more often. Of course, this one was a working day, as well, since he was – technically – consulting on superhero business. Peter wasn’t an Avenger (yet) but he was definitely an up and coming superhero, whether he thought of himself as such or not.

“What are we having for dinner?”

“I haven’t decided, yet,” Tony admitted, reaching over to bring the boy’s hand to his thigh. “We need to make a stop at the store on the way home, so if you want something other than spaghetti, I’m willing to be convinced.”

“I’ll think about it.” He let his fingers trace the line of muscle in Tony’s thigh through his slacks. “What are you getting at the store?”

“Well, we need a dozen eggs, flour, sugar and peanut butter to replace what you borrowed from the woman who lives below me.”

“ _Monica_ ,” Peter supplied, helpfully.

“Right. Plus, we need all of those to replace what _we_ don’t have, now.”

Good point.

He enjoyed the store as much as he had the first time, and for the same reason. Even though the groceries weren’t even all going into his own cupboards and fridge, Tony was just as exact about what he was purchasing when it came to the foodstuffs involved. More, even. Loaded with groceries, they went home, first, put everything away except what wasn’t staying, gathered up the borrowed cookie sheets and headed for the lobby, first, and then to the elevator that allowed them to go to the other floors of the building, rather than the personal one for the penthouse.

“You know which one?” Tony asked as they exited the elevator.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

There weren’t too many doors to choose from. While Tony’s apartment covered most of the top floor of the building, the ones right below him weren’t tiny, either, and were probably just as luxurious. He’d see. Of course, he might not. If he had any concerns about this Monica woman having any intentions of trying some kind of moves on him (or on Peter?) they’d simply return the borrowed sheets and replaced items and thank her politely and go.

When Peter knocked on the closest door to the elevator, Tony heard a large, booming, bark coming from the other side of the door.

“That’s Boomer,” Peter told him.

If the bark was any indication, the dog was huge. And vicious. Another reason not to stay, really. Stark wasn’t in the mood to be chewed on.

When the door opened, Tony had to smile, all concerns about illicit affairs and attempted trysts dissolving. The woman who answered, one hand on the door, the other on the blocky head of the dog standing beside her, was seventy – at least – and even though she glanced at Tony, her smile was immediately for the boy beside him.

“Peter!” She engulfed him in a hug that he returned with a smile, holding her carefully to make sure he didn’t squeeze too hard.

“Hi, Monica. We brought your stuff back.”

She pulled away, and now she did look at Tony.

“So, you did.”

“This is Tony.”

Stark freed a hand to offer it to her, and the dog at her side made a low growl, which made the old woman snap off a sharp command in what sounded like German, and the dog sat down.

“Sorry about Boomer,” she said, taking Tony’s hand in both of hers. “He’s protective.”

“Which is the whole idea, right?” Peter asked, smiling and reaching for the dog to run his hands over the animal’s ears and jowls. “To make sure you’re safe.”

She nodded, waving both of them into her apartment, which was only somewhat smaller than Tony’s, he saw, as she closed the door behind them. Now that he’d been given the all-clear, the dog was bumping its head against Peter, trying to get more attention and pettings.

“Yes.” She headed for the kitchen, still spry and mobile, Tony saw as they followed. “My son didn’t want me living alone – as if! So, the compromise was that he train a guard dog for me.”

“Peter said you own a flower shop.”

“I do,” she said, taking the eggs from him and putting them in her fridge. She named the place and Tony shook his head. It wasn’t _one_ shop, it was several hundred, with locations all over the country. “I spend three days a week at the flower shop, with Boomer, just to keep my hands in things. She gave him a look. “He tells me that _you’re_ Ironman.”

“Sometimes.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. How did the cookies turn out?”

“They were _wonderful_ ,” Tony lied. “Thank you for the loan.”

Her smile told him that she knew he was lying, but her glance at Peter – who had flushed with pleasure at the praise told her why he’d done so – and she nodded.

“I’m glad to hear it. Next time, bring me some, Peter.”

“We will.”

He was on the floor, now, with the big dog – a _rottweiler_ , Tony thought – all over him, playing and wrestling. The billionaire nodded.

“Definitely.”

Of course, he’d make sure the next time they baked cookies that they would be _edible_ , so that was a promise he could keep.

“I was just getting ready to make dinner,” she said. “Care to join me?”

“We don’t want to impose,” Tony told her, even though Peter looked up, hopefully, his arm around the dog’s neck.

“Nonsense. Peter? Do you like macaroni and cheese? I cut up hotdogs into it and add some extra cheese. _My boys_ loved it.”

Tony rolled his eyes, amused, and knew that they were going to have dinner with Monica.

>><><><><<<>> 

“That was fun.”

Stark looked at the boy standing beside him in the elevator, holding the large bundle in his hands. Which was leftover mac and cheese, ready to be reheated, a dozen peanut butter cookies that Monica and Peter had baked while waiting for their dinner and a small vase with some flowers in it – to brighten up their day, Monica had said.

He nodded.

“Yeah. It was.”

He meant it, too. The woman was a treasure, really, and he’d enjoyed talking to her while she’d made them dinner and then had shown Peter how she baked cookies. Always _peanut butter_ , she said, so that Boomer could have a taste. Tony hadn’t complained when she’d given the boy the beaters to clean, but he started the salmonella countdown in his head once more – just in case.

“She’s nice.”

“You’re right.” He brushed his fingers through the boy’s hair, smiling, warmly, at him. “I liked her.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Of course, she liked _Peter_ , so he thought he might be a little biased toward her because of that, but he didn’t mind. “If you want to go visit her, again, I don’t think that’s a bad idea, at all.”

She’d told them over dinner that she was working the next day, but that if Peter wanted to come for a visit the day after, he was always welcome. She’d handed Tony her business card, but had scratched out the printed number and wrote her personal cell number on it.

“Great.”

They reached their floor and went inside.

“Put that stuff away, will you, honey?” Tony asked. “I’m going to go change.”

“Okay.”

When Tony returned to the living room wearing nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms, Peter was sitting on the couch, the flowers on the kitchen island. He settled in next to him, and the boy climbed into his lap, still dressed, but wanting to cuddle.

“Lose the sweatshirt,” Tony told him, sliding his hand under the sweatshirt and the t-shirt, running his fingers along Peter’s stomach and chest. “I want to touch you and you have too many layers on…”

Of course, with him, one layer was too many, really.

Peter slipped it off, taking the t-shirt as well, and not bothering to claim it. Tony ran his fingers over the bruising from Peter’s fall, looking at the boy’s eyes as he did, watching for discomfort.

“Do they hurt?”

“No, daddy,” he assured him, shivering at the touch as he leaned against Tony, his belly and chest pressing against the billionaire’s. “I’m _fine_. Really.”

Tony turned his head and kissed his temple, turning on the TV, but sliding his free hand down, under Peter’s jeans and cupping the swell of his ass in his palm.

“You’re even better than that, beautiful boy,” Tony assured him. “So pretty. So _wonderful_.”

Peter moaned softly in his ear, which made _Tony_ shiver, too.

“Daddy…”

“What do you want to do, tonight?” he whispered, kneading the boy’s ass. “Can you tell me, honey?”

Peter flushed and stuck his face into Tony’s neck.

“The _good_ things…”

“Come on, brave boy,” Tony crooned. “So strong. So sexy. So beautiful… tell daddy what you want me to do to you, so I do what _you_ want, and not just what I want.”

Peter was practically breathless, but Tony gentled him with a touch.

“Play with me, daddy…”

Tony smiled; it was a start. He pulled his hand out of the boy’s pants and hugged him.

“So _brave_. So perfect. _Then_ what, sweet baby? Say it.”

The boy buried his face deeper into Tony’s neck, trembling, ecstatically.

“Fuckmedaddy.”

“Yes, honey…” Stark crooned, reaching down between them and pushing his baby back just far enough to allow him the room needed to reach for the button on his jeans. “I think that can be arranged.”

Peter moaned, already lost in the sensation of being Tony Stark’s world.


	71. 71

Tony’s voice in his ear drew Peter from his slightly dazed nap; the breathy words and the touch of his facial hair against Peter’s smooth cheek causing him to shiver, even though he was warmly covered with the blankets that his lover had tucked around him after he’d pulled out of his trembling body a short time before.

“You’re not going to forget to eat _breakfast_ , right?”

He stretched, Tony’s arms on either side of his body, even though the billionaire was now dressed, and Peter was naked, stretched out on his belly, legs still slightly parted and ass still wet from Tony’s early morning attentions.

“Yeah. No. I’ll eat.”

“I put some money in your wallet,” Tony told him, nuzzling his ear. “If you want to go somewhere or do something. Don’t go too far, though, alright?”

He turned his head and looked up at him, sleepily.

“You didn’t have to do that, daddy.” He was used to not having money, after all. “I’m _fine_.”

“I know, honey, but I want you to be able to do whatever you want – if you want to do it. Let me spoil you a little.”

Peter nodded, too sleepy to really put up much of an argument.

“When will you be home?”

“As soon as possible, but probably not until late. You’re _sure_ you don’t want to come in with me? I could put you in the workroom, let you play with the suits…”

“No.” He’d be a distraction and Tony wouldn’t get anything done. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.” There was a tender kiss that almost reached his lips, and the weight that had been on the bed with him lifted. “Happy’s here, so I’m leaving.”

“Okay.”

“ _No baking_!” he added as he left the bedroom.

Peter chuckled and closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

>>>><<<><><<<>>> 

“Hey, boss.”

“Morning, Happy.”

“How’s the kid?”

“Sleeping in, the lazy punk.”

The driver smiled. Well aware that the insult wasn’t in any way sincere.

“He’s a _teenager_ , that’s what they do, right?”

“I’m learning.”

He settled into the back seat as Happy drove them out of the parking garage, and pulled out his tablet, too impatient to get started on his newest project to even wait until he made it to the tower. He scanned through several different options for fabrics and materials, trying to decide what would work best for a suit for Peter.

Not metal was really the only limitation he was placing on himself, because he hadn’t been lying when he said the suit would require more flexibility than metal would offer – plus it would be heavy as hell, and even though Peter was strong, there was no point in making him a big and bulky suit. It would be awkward.

_Bullet-proof_ would be nice, though. Or at least something that would catch the majority of the force of a bullet if one were to hit the suit. _Kevlar_? He frowned, bringing up an example of the sturdy fabric, and scowling with dissatisfaction. That wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.

By the time they reached the tower and Happy had opened the door for him, he still hadn’t found what he wanted.

“What time, boss?”

“I’m not completely sure. Figure after three and before six.”

“Peter’s home?”

“Yeah. If he needs anything, you’ll end up being the gofer – unless you’re doing something else?”

“No. I don’t mind, you know that.”

The driver had his own proprietary feelings for the boy; after all, he’d been with Stark when they’d found Peter, and he couldn’t help it that every time he saw the boy he checked to see if his cheeks were a little less gaunt and if those big eyes of his were cheerful rather than worried.

“I know, thanks.”

“Call when you’re ready.”

Tony nodded and went into the tower, greeting the doorman, cheerfully. Nothing like a good fuck with an incredible partner and a new project to start a day off the right way, after all. He headed for the elevator, but didn’t go to his office. Instead he went to see if Bruce was in. Maybe he’d have some ideas about fabric. The billionaire was well aware that Bruce had done research on different fabrics to keep his from tearing every time he morphed into the other guy, after all.

>>>><<<><><>> 

Peter slept until mid-morning before his stomach finally pulled him out of bed. Stretching and yawning, he went into the guest room and showered, studying the bruises on his legs, side and arm in the mirror. Nothing too bad, really. Some of the ones he’d gotten when he’d slammed into walls on his first attempts at learning the physics of web swinging had been epic, after all. These were baby bruises compared to that, and hardly hurt at all, even when he pressed on them.

The boy dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and a sweatshirt, and then went to the kitchen to find breakfast.

“Morning, FRIDAY.”

_“Good morning, Peter. Breakfast is in the fridge.”_

He smiled when he opened the fridge and found a plate with breakfast burritos covered and waiting; a post-it note telling him to remove the cover and to microwave for 3 minutes. Obviously he wasn’t going to be allowed to make Tony worry about him cooking his own breakfast, just yet. He could fry eggs, though – although they ended up more scrambled than anything – and toast wasn’t hard. His go to breakfast was usually just cereal, and he’d have to make sure they picked some up the next time he was at the store with Tony.

Just in case the billionaire was running behind and didn’t have time to cook.

_“Boss wants to know if you need anything…”_

Peter smiled, realizing that Tony had probably asked FRIDAY to let him know when he got up – maybe even double-check to make sure he was eating.

“I’m good, thanks. Tell him I’m going to go for a walk when I’ve finished eating breakfast and that I have the leftovers from last night for lunch.”

He took his breakfast from the microwave and ate it out on the balcony to get an idea of what the weather was like. It was sunny and a bit chilly, but the sweatshirt should be enough to keep him warm. Peter soaked up a little of the sunshine while eating, thinking about the conversation that Tony had had with him about schooling him from home – which, of course, made him mull over the options that Ms. Potts had told him about.

He knew Tony wanted whatever he wanted. He knew what he wanted was _Tony_ , for however long he was going to want to be with him.

Peter was aware that he wasn’t as sexy, or beautiful, or amazing as Tony _told_ him he was – although he loved it when he called him all of those things, and _more_. As such, he wasn’t much of a prize for a handsome, well sought after billionaire who could have his pick of probably anyone. No matter how much he liked to think that he was.

Eventually Tony would have to move on, and find someone who didn’t cause him so much worry all the time. Someone old enough to _vote_ , even. They’d still be _friends_ , Peter hoped, but depending on when that dreadful day happened, Peter didn’t want Tony to be shackled to him by a legal guardianship.

He thought maybe the emancipation would be the way to go, and then see if Tony would care if he stayed with him the way things were just then, and getting homeschooled. If Peter was good enough, he figured that he could get his schooling done and maybe even get a _scholarship_ somewhere. Plenty of kids went to college before they were eighteen, and he knew it. He was smart enough to do so, as well, he was certain. 

It would take a little more thought – and, of course, he’d run it by Tony to see what _he_ thought.

Peter shook his head, and decided that the day was too bright for gloomy thoughts – and thinking about not being with _Tony_ was pretty gloomy. He went and got his shoes on and picked up his wallet from the nightstand in the guest room. A glance inside made his eyes widen as he counted three hundred dollars in twenties and found a note.

_Your homework today is to spend this on yourself, honey. I love you_

Peter smiled, wondering what Tony thought he would want that would cost _three hundred dollars_. At the minute, all he could think of was that he’d be able to stop anywhere he wanted for lunch. Which probably shouldn’t be much of a shock, since eating had been one of his biggest worries before Tony had rescued him.

With a smile, he left the apartment and went out to explore Tony’s neighborhood.


	72. 72

It was later than Tony had anticipated when he finally returned to the apartment.

“Peter? Honey, I’m home.”

It secretly thrilled him to be able to have someone to say that to, and that it was someone as amazing as Peter just made it that much _better_. He heard the squeak of the boy’s shoe on the tile in the kitchen and turned from the guest room door – where he’d anticipated him to be – toward the kitchen instead.

Peter was walking toward him, everything about him exuding sincere happiness. The boy slid into his embrace, easily, dodging the paper bag in Tony’s hand to slide his own hands under the older man’s suit jacket and wrap his arms around him.

“Hi, daddy,” he murmured into his chest. “I _missed_ you.”

Tony smiled, hugging him with his free hand, and turning his head to press butterfly kisses against his ear.

“Hi, baby.”

It wasn’t a surprise to Peter that he was late. Tony had called him once he realized that he’d lost track of time in his workroom and apologized, telling him that he was on his way, and not to worry about dinner; he’d have Happy stop somewhere and he’d bring dinner home with him.

The boy held him for a long moment, and then stepped back, taking the bag from him.

“Are you okay?” he asked Tony. “You look tired.”

“I _am_ ,” Stark admitted. “I’m sorry I’m late. I’ll have FRIDAY nudge me from now on.”

“It’s alright. Go ahead and get changed, okay? I’ll put this onto a couple of plates, and we can eat while it’s still warm.”

“Thank you.”

Tony went into his room and changed out of his suit and into sweats and a t-shirt, returning to the main room to find that Peter had plated up their burgers and fries and had poured Tony a cup of coffee and set it beside one of the plates and had pulled a cola from the fridge for himself. He went over and sat down, noticing a box that looked like it had a jigsaw puzzle in it. To judge from the front cover, it was a ridiculously complicated one that was a pile of coins of all sorts, sizes and different colors.

“Did you have a good day?” Peter asked, watching him take a sip of his coffee.

“It was productive,” Tony told him. “Nothing too exciting, though. Not yet, anyway. How about you? What did you do?”

“Took a walk.” The boy smiled. “Did you know there’s a comic store a few blocks from here?”

“No.” And he never would _ever_ have known it – except that Peter must have discovered it. “Is it any good?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you buy yourself something there?”

“No. There wasn’t anything I needed. But it was fun to look through the stuff, and I talked to guy the behind the counter for a while.”

“You don’t have to buy something you _need_ ,” Tony reminded him, taking a bite of his burger, suddenly starving. “ _I'll_ buy you whatever you need. _You_ were supposed to buy something you _wanted_.”

“I got that puzzle,” Peter told him, pointing to the box Tony had noticed. “It’s pretty tricky, I think.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

The billionaire frowned, reaching over and picking up the box to examine it.

“Did it cost you _three hundred dollars_?”

Peter smiled, knowing what he was getting at.

“No. It was $5.99. I found a little arts and crafts store, near the comic book store. _They_ had it.”

“I wanted you to get yourself something you wanted, honey.”

“I did. It just wasn’t that expensive, is all. I had _fun_ , though,” he added. “Looking around and knowing that I _could_ have bought something if I really wanted it.”

Tony grumbled.

“That’s something, I suppose.”

Peter smiled, and turned his attention to his dinner with typical teenage enthusiasm, telling Tony about the many small shops that he had found in the area. Shops that Tony didn’t know existed, since he never walked the neighborhood. He drove – or was driven – into the parking garage and went to his apartment. Peter, on the other hand, had been curious enough to look around.

And then cajoled Tony into promising that he’d come walking with him, sometime.

When they were done eating, Peter sent Tony to the sofa, recognizing that he was weary. The boy wasn’t tired at all. He’d slept in and had then had a very relaxing day, doing nothing too important. He threw the garbage from their meal away, and then went over to join Tony.

“Can I sit on your lap?” he asked, hesitantly. “Or are you tired?”

“No, baby. I’m never too tired to hold you.”

Peter smiled and pulled his sweatshirt off and crawled into Tony’s lap, straddling him and resting his cheek on his shoulder, while his hand slid down between them to trace the outline of the soft swelling in the billionaire’s sweats. Tony sighed, contentedly, running his hand along Peter’s back as he felt himself reacting to the tender touch.

“Feels good, daddy?”

“Yes, honey. Don’t stop.”

“Okay.”

Peter didn’t slide his hand under the sweats Tony was wearing, but he didn’t need to in order to be able to feel that his daddy’s cock was beginning to swell under his touch.

“You didn’t see _anything_ you wanted while you were out, today?” Tony asked him, reaching down and pulling his cock out of his sweats, silently telling Peter that he wanted more direct contact.

“Not really. Nothing I _need_.”

“I wanted you to buy yourself something,” Tony purred into his ear. “I want my baby happy.”

“I’m happy, already,” Peter told him, sincerely. “You don’t have to give me money… I just want _you_. For as long as you’re willing.”

Tony rested his cheek against the boy’s and then covered his hand for a moment, stilling the motions on his hard shaft. He wanted to be able to concentrate on the conversation they were having.

“I know I don’t _have_ to give you money, honey. But I have a _lot_ of it, and no one to spend it on. Which means that – by default – _you’re_ going to end up the recipient of a lot of expensive gifts. Not because I think I have to get you things, but because I _want_ to give you things. I _enjoy_ seeing you happy. It makes _me_ happy. There aren’t a lot of things that do, you know.”

“Being Ironman?”

“It doesn’t make me _happy_ , but I enjoy doing it. Just like I enjoy making things, like the suits, and whatever else comes up. But they’re not a person, honey. At the end of the day, what I need and want, is to come home and be greeted by someone who loves me, and wants to spend time with me. _You_. That’s what makes me happy. Get it?”

“Yes.”

“So, I’m not taking a role as sugar daddy – just so you _know_ – because I know that you don’t necessarily _want_ presents and exotic things. But I’m going to _spoil_ the fuck out of you, whether you like it or not, because I love you very much and you make me smile when you smile.”

“Just don’t go _crazy_ , okay?” Peter said, allowing his hand to move along Tony’s shaft, once more. “I’d rather have the puzzle on the table – and _you_ solving it with me – than something super expensive that I’d have to do by myself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Peter smiled and kissed his cheek and then slid himself off Tony’s lap, easily coming to a stop on the floor between his knees.

“You know what would make me happy, right now, daddy?”

Tony shivered, feeling his warm breath against the head of his cock. He looked down at Peter, his eyes half-lidded, dusky with desire.

“What, baby?”

“Sucking on you.”

Tony smiled, his fingers carding through Peter’s curls.

“Go ahead, beautiful boy. Suck on daddy’s cock.”

He closed his eyes and leaned back as the boy’s mouth closed over his cock, drawing him in. Tony groaned with pleasure as the boy’s tongue worked along the shaft, wetting it and sucking it, his lips playing with the tender and most sensitive spots. Then his eyes widened in surprise as he felt Peter try to take him all the way into his mouth, the head of his cock bumping the back of Peter’s throat, making him gag, just a little.

“Careful, honey,” Tony cooed. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

The boy smiled up at him and tried, again, obviously anxious to try and deepthroat the older man. He didn’t quite manage the full girth before he was forced to back off, but he wasn’t too far off, and the sight and the sensation of his cock vanishing into Peter’s mouth was arousing enough that Tony wasn’t helping the process by swelling even more.

Finally Peter gave up and settled on sucking the head and upper shaft of Tony’s cock, stroking the rest of the shaft and caressing the heavy sack as he slurped and licked, lapping at the precum dribbling from the slit and then sucking like it was a bottle. Tony had both hands on the boy’s head, now, holding him somewhat in place as his hips thrust his cock into his mouth, carefully, but with abundant eagerness. He murmured encouragement to the boy, reminding Peter just how sexy he was, how beautiful it was to have his cock in Peter’s throat.

Eventually, his entire being tensed, and he came, feeding the boy his cum in hot gobs that Peter swallowed down, willingly. Tony held him place for a long moment while he trembled with his release, and then pulled Peter back into his lap, kissing him, hungrily.

“You’ve been practicing?”

The boy blushed, slightly, but was obviously pleased with how excited it had made Tony that he’d almost taken him all the way.

“Yes. Kind of. With a cucumber.”

Tony smiled.

“That’s fine, honey. But you can always practice on _me._ I’d appreciate it a lot more than the cucumber would.”

Peter chuckled and wrapped his arms around Tony, sliding them under his shirt.

“I’ll remember that, daddy.”


	73. 73

Mindful of the fact that Tony was tired from his day, Peter didn’t suggest that they do anything – not even something as mundane as trying to start the puzzle. Instead, he simply cuddled with him on the couch, giving him the company that Tony so longed for and taking that same companionship. His head resting on the billionaire’s shoulder as he asked him about his day and what he’d done.

It was a good way for Tony to wind down, and for Peter to hear more about the projects that the older man was working on – and he was amazed at just how many there were going at once, and how complicated they were.

“I have to work tomorrow,” Tony told him,, eventually, nuzzling his neck with his lips, but not making any marks – as much as he’d love to do just that to show the world who the boy belonged with – and _to_. “Natasha called me and reminded me that you’re invited out there this weekend. Are you still interested?”

“Yeah.” Of _course_. “Can I go visit Monica, tomorrow, while you’re working?”

“You can do anything you want, honey, as long as you’re not putting yourself in danger – or getting into too much trouble.”

Peter smiled.

“You’re leaving me wiggle room to get into a _little_ trouble?”

“If you do it with _Monica_ , you can. I trust her to keep things from escalating. Otherwise, _behave_. Understand?”

“Yes, daddy.”

He shivered at that meek compliance and the softly uttered _daddy_.

“Make sure you’re home by four. I’ll have Happy swing by and pick you up before he comes and gets me and we’ll go out to the compound for the weekend – so pack some clothes.”

“Okay.” Peter ran his fingers along Tony’s jaw. “Can we take a bath, daddy?”

“Is that what you want to do, honey?” He asked, pleased that the boy was willing to vocalize his desires – even if it was something that simple. It was a start, after all. “Want daddy to bathe his little boy?”

Peter blushed, but nodded and looked at him, hopefully.

“Like you did. Washing me… and holding me… If you’re not too tired?”

Tony would never be too tired for that. Especially since Peter was so reluctant to ask for anything.

“No. I’m not too tired. Go start the water. I’ll meet you in there.”

Peter nodded and kissed him, and then got up and disappeared into Tony’s bedroom, since his bathtub was a little nicer. Stark smiled, and stood up, as well. He went through the apartment to make sure things were where they needed to be for the morning, and to double-check the fridge to make sure that there was sausage and eggs available to make for breakfast.

By the time he walked into the bathroom, the water was running, and Peter was kneeling next to the tub, his knees on the bathmat.

“Honey? Why are you still _dressed_?” Tony asked, walking over and taking his hand to pull him to his feet. He smiled, lovingly, at the boy and put his arms around him. “So pretty. So _sexy_. Daddy will help you get ready for the bath, okay?”

Peter flushed and trembled, but nodded, and Tony could see that the baby talk was exciting Peter, too. He slowly undressed the boy, kissing his chest and stomach as he pulled his sweatshirt and t-shirt off and hung them over a towel rack before reaching for the button on Peter’s jeans.

“My baby is so beautiful,” Tony crooned, sliding them down, the boy’s penis already showing signs of his arousal as it was freed from his boxers and he stepped out of them. “So pretty, Peter… you’re wonderful.”

“Daddy…”

The billionaire slid his hand along Peter’s cock, stroking him, tenderly, his fingers wrapping around the shaft and caressing him.

“So hard for me, honey?”

“Yes.”

Tony let go of him and turned off the water, double-checking to make sure it wasn’t to hot before he undressed and stepped into the tub and sat down.

“Come here, baby,” he murmured, holding Peter steady as he drew the boy down on top of him, his lithe body straddling Tony’s, and his hard cock pinned between their bellies when Peter brought his head back down to Tony’s shoulder. “I love holding you like this.”

“Me, too,” he agreed, a hand on either side of the older man, caressing Tony’s hips and sides since Stark had him wrapped up in his embrace and that was the only part of him that he could reach. He closed his eyes, allowing Tony’s hold on him and the hot water to relax him completely. They were silent for several long minutes, just being together. Then: “What would _you_ buy, if you had three hundred dollars?”

“I _do_ have three hundred dollars,” Tony reminded him.

Peter smiled.

“I mean, if you were walking through the neighborhood, all the stores that I told you about all around you… what would _you_ want?”

“A loaf of fresh bread from the bakery – maybe a cinnamon roll – if they looked right, and didn’t have raisins in them. You mentioned an antique store? Maybe I’d look around and see if they had something interesting there.”

“While you ate your cinnamon roll…” Peter murmured, his body limp, completely, now.

“Yeah. If it doesn’t have raisins.” Tony reached for the washcloth and the body wash, well aware that they were both going to fall asleep in the tub if things continued as they were. Which was all well and good, except that he was quickly learning that Peter was hard to wake up once he was drowsing. “Let’s get you cleaned and then I’ll put you to bed. We can finish this discussion there.”

“Okay.”

Tony washed his back, fist, since it was easiest to reach, and then ran the washcloth under the water along Peter’s ass, taking his time and occasionally sliding his bare hands along the fleshy mounds – and in between them, which would make Peter’s sigh in the older man’s ear, delightfully. Then he washed his thighs and calves and had Peter sit up on him a little so that he could run the washcloth along his neck, chest and belly. Finally, he washed the boy’s cock, which had been flaccid, again, while they were relaxing, but had started swelling as soon as Tony began washing him.

It didn’t help that the billionaire crooned a litany of how amazing, and wonderful and perfect Peter was as he washed him. Playing on the praise kink that the boy had, but meaning every word.

He smiled down between them, losing the washcloth, now, and sliding his soapy, wet hand along Peter’s cock.

“So hard for daddy, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes,” Peter whispered, leaning back a little. Tony brought his knees up so the boy could rest his back against his thighs, bracing him. “That feels good.”

“I love playing with you, Peter,” Tony told him, his hand stroking him, easily, his eyes on Peter’s chocolate ones, so dark with desire, now, and alternating between watching his face and looking down to watch as Tony fondled him. “So perfect. You fit my hand just right. Like you were made for me.”

“Please, daddy.”

“Daddy’s going to make his baby boy feel so good. Going to make him squirm…”

He already _was_ ; the boy's hips were moving with Tony’s east motions, rubbing that beautiful ass against Tony’s cock, making him swell, also, the head every now and then finding Peter’s crack and sliding along it, wonderfully as the boy rocked against him. Peter whimpered with need, which only made Tony harder.

“Daddy…”

“What do you want me to do, honey?”

“You know.”

“ _Say_ it,” Tony told him, stroking Peter’s cock, keeping him throbbing, but not giving him his release, just yet. “ _Tell_ daddy, brave boy. Beautiful, eager and wonderful baby.”

He was flushed, now, a combination of desire and aching need, and Tony smiled at him, catching his chin with the hand that wasn’t keeping him hard and making him look at him.

“I need it,” Peter whined.

“Say it. Come on, baby,” he coaxed. “You can say it. You’re so perfect. Tell daddy. Make sure we give you what you want, tonight. _Say_ it, honey…”

“Fuck me, daddy,” the boy whispered, closing his eyes, but not speaking so quickly that Tony had to sort out what he was asking for. “Please… _please_ …”

Tony slid his hand under Peter, finding his crack easily when the boy raised up a little for him.

“That’s my brave baby,” he cooed, as he played with the boy, sliding a finger inside him and beginning to stretch him, finding his prostrate and caressing it, which made Peter arch in the double – _triple_ – pleasure of having his ass played with, his cock stroked and the praises heaped on him all at the same time.

His climax was inevitable, even though it surprised both of them, and his gasped as his balls tightened and his entire body tensed, a sudden rope of hot cum painting Tony’s chest and followed by another, almost immediately. Tony stroked him, harder, helping him find absolute completion, while he slid a second finger into his ass, still playing with him and encouraging him.

“Yes, baby… Keep going, honey. Is there more for Daddy?”

Peter shuddered and collapsed on Tony’s chest, trembling, his heart pounding and his breath hot against the older man’s neck, pinning Tony’s hand and his half-aroused cock between them.

“That was _so good_ …”

Tony chuckled at the astonishment in the boy’s tone, and he turned his head to kiss him.

“You’re not done, _yet_ , honey,” he crooned, his hands going to the boy’s hips and raising him up a little before guiding the head of his eager cock against the boy’s tightly puckered hole. “Daddy needs his baby, now… ready?”

“Yes.”

The boy pressed himself down, even as Tony raised his hips up, and with an easy, careful set of measured thrusts, Tony soon found himself engulf in Peter’s willing body. They were still for a moment, enjoying the sensation, and then Tony’s hand returned to Peter’s cock, already sliding along that ultra-sensitive shaft.

“I do love bath time with my baby,” the billionaire murmured.

“Me, too, daddy,” Peter assured him, grinding his hips down and meeting Tony’s upward thrust, forcing him that much further inside him, which made them both gasp.

Peter braced his hands on the sides of the tub, while Tony stroked his cock with one hand, and held his hip with the other, alternating between baby talking him with words of praise and talking dirty to him. Both were having their effect on the boy, who was focusing on trying to get the head of Tony’s cock to hit that spot inside him that felt so amazing, with each thrust, while Tony watched his eyes as he finally found the spot – and the rhythm – and began riding him, deliciously.

“Daddy… daddy… _daddy_!”

Each thrust was a breathless cry of pleasure that had Tony climaxing much sooner than he expected, just as Peter’s cock jerked in his hand again, triggered by the flush of hot cum washing through his insides.

“Yes, baby…” Tony moaned as he grasped the boy, tightly, wrapping his arms around him, holding him close and feeling the boy rutting the last of his climax between their bodies. “That was so good, Peter. So fucking perfect. You’re so perfect.”

Peter’s cheek was once more against Tony’s shoulder, and now he could hear the older man’s heart beating in a discord to his own, but it sounded so perfect.

“Thank you, daddy,” Peter whispered. “I really wanted that.”

Tony chuckled, tiredly.

“I know, baby,” Of course he did; Peter had _told_ him what to do. “Let’s get showered off, and go to bed. I’m ready to cuddle the hell out of you.”


	74. 74

“Hey, Happy.”

“Hey, Peter, my man,” the driver greeted him, cheerfully. “How are you doing?”

“Good. Thanks. You?”

“I’m great. Ready for the weekend?”

“Yeah. Want a cookie?”

“Absolutely. Did _you_ make them?”

Which made Peter think that he’d probably heard about the cookie fiasco. That made him smile, though.

“I _did_ , but I had help from the lady that lives below Tony. She’s a lot better at baking than I am, trust me.”

“Oh, got yourself a _girlfriend_?”

Peter smiled, and even blushed.

“No. But I _do_ like her – she has a _dog_.”

Happy shook his head.

“You have it backwards, Pete. _You’re_ supposed to be the one using the dog to find yourself a hottie. Not the other way around.”

“Ah. I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Need help with anything?”

“Please.”

Peter handed him his backpack, electing to carry the three paper bags he was holding. They were somewhat _bulky_ , but not heavy.

“The boss is running just a little behind schedule,” Happy told him as they rode the elevator down to the parking garage.

“Yeah, he called me, too. Did you have a good day?”

“I did, thanks. Ran a lot of errands and drove some VIPs around.”

Peter grinned, walking out of the elevator.

“Anyone I’d know?”

The driver smiled at the boy’s enthusiasm, walking over and opening the trunk of the car to put Peter’s backpack in it.

“I can’t tell you that. It’d violate driver/drivee confidentiality.”

“What? That’s _not_ a thing…”

“Of course, it is.”

“Come on… I’ll give you _two_ cookies…”

“What kind are they?”

“I have peanut butter, or chocolate chip.”

“One of each and I’ll give you a hint.”

The boy held out one of the paper bags and Happy saw that it was fairly loaded with cookies. He carefully picked out two cookies, sniffing them, appreciatively, and then opening the back door for Peter.

“One of them has a name that rhymes with Bomb Bruise…”

The boy got into the car.

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“Cool.”

He settled in and Happy closed the door for him. Peter set his bags carefully on the seat next to him and then opened the partition. Happy rolled his eyes, amused, but not surprised.

“Yes?”

“Where did you and Mr. Bruise go?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“More driver/drivee confidentiality?”

“Something like that. Now hush; I need to concentrate so I don’t rear end a taxi, or something.”

“Oh. What if it was the _Cash Cab_? You ever see _that_ guy while you’re out driving? That would be exciting, wouldn’t it? I-“

“Peter…”

“Yeah?”

“How many of these cookies have you had?”

The boy grinned.

“A few.”

“I’m closing the window. Find something to eat in the fridge and stay out of trouble.”

Happy winked at him to soften the criticism, but he closed the partition,  and Peter shook his head and settled into the plush seat of the limo, fiddling with the radio and then pulling his phone out of his pocket and taking a selfie and sending it to Bruce, Tony and Sam. He’d already inundated Natasha with pictures of him and Boomer throughout the afternoon, and Steve had been sent the pictures Peter took with the guy that was dressed up like Captain America outside the comic book store, although Natasha had warned him that Steve’s phone was a dinosaur. He’d have sent something to the others, but they’d been smart enough to not share their personal numbers with him.

They pulled in to the front of the tower and Peter watched the people walking by, even though they couldn’t see him through the tinted windows. They didn’t have to wait as long as thought they would, though, before Tony appeared at the door, talking on his phone. He nodded a silent thank you to the man who held it open for him and then to Happy, who opened the car door for him.

Peter moved over to let Tony settle in his seat, and smiled when the door closed but didn’t say anything, to avoid bothering him while he was talking. Tony reached out with his free hand and brushed his fingers against Peter’s chin before patting his lap, silently telling the boy where he wanted him.

“Yes, I completely understand. Yes. Right. Well… how do I sleep at night knowing the bad guys hate me? With my underwear down, so they can kiss my ass…”

He winked at Peter as the boy tucked himself into Tony’s lap, straddling him and avoiding jarring him as he did. Tony put his free arm around his young lover, holding him securely as the car went around a corner, and Peter allowed his cheek to come down on Tony’s shoulder.

“I need to go,” Tony told the person on the phone. “I’m off the grid this weekend; if you need something that can’t wait, you’re going to have to try and get Pepper to do it for you.”

The billionaire ended the call and tucked his phone inside his jacket, then put both arms around Peter and turned his head to kiss him, tenderly.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hi, daddy. Did you have a good day?”

“The usual bullshit, honey. But it wasn’t too bad. It’s better, _now_ , though. How about you? You spent time with Monica?”

“We made cookies.”

“Yeah? Did you bring any?”

“Almost all of them. I thought the others might want some.”

“That’s thoughtful.”

The boy unbuttoned one of Tony’s shirt buttons, and slid his hand under it, running his fingers along bare skin.

“I got you something,” he said, looking up at him, shyly.

“You _did_?”

Peter nodded, and reached over to pluck one of the paper bags off the seat beside them. He handed it to Tony, who let him go long enough to look inside and the reach in and pull out the small velvet covered box.

“What is it? Please tell me it’s a _wedding ring_. I _do_.”

The boy blushed with pleasure at the sincerity and the glint in the billionaire’s eyes.

“It isn’t. Sorry.”

He watched, hopefully, as Tony opened the box, wishing with all his being that the gift was well received. Tony’s expression was unreadable, though. At least Peter couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“They’re cufflinks,” the boy told him, helpfully.

“I see that.” The billionaire smiled. “Where did you get them?”

“At the antique store down the block. Monica and I went for a walk, today, and we stopped there – with Boomer. She helped me pick them out. The man told us that they once belonged to Nikolai Tesla. Monica called shenanigans – whatever that means – and the two of them started arguing.”

“Yeah? Who won?”

“I think she did, but the man brought out a piece of paper and proved he was telling the truth.”

“These belonged to Tesla?”

“Yes. Do you _like_ them?”

“They’re amazing.” He looked at them, and then back at Peter. “You spent your money on _these_?”

“Yes. I got a really good deal, though. Monica talked him way down."

“That money was for you to buy something for you.”

“It was to buy something I _wanted_ ,” Peter corrected. “I wanted something that you would like. Something that you didn’t _have_. Besides, I still have the _puzzle_.”

He looked like he was going to argue with the boy, but he didn’t. Instead, he smiled and put the box back in the bag and kissed Peter, gently, his tongue licking the boy’s lower lip until it opened and then tasting him. Peter moaned into the kiss, his hand going back into the shirt, caressing everywhere he could reach. Tony pulled back, finally, his eyes dusky with desire that Peter could feel echoed in the bulge pressing suddenly against his inner thigh.

“Did you get me a cinnamon roll, too?”

“I _ate_ it,” Peter told him. “It had raisins.”

“God, I love you, honey…”

“I love you, too, daddy.”

Tony kissed the boy again, reaching down between them for the button on Peter’s jeans.

“Have you ever had sex in the backseat of a car?”

The boy smiled. Tony knew everywhere he’d had sex. He’d been the one doing it, after all.

“No.”

“That’s going to come off the bucket list, right now,” he said, reaching out and carefully moving the bag of cookies and the other bag from the seat beside them and then easing Peter off of his lap and onto it, unzipping his jeans and then pulling them down before unbuckling his belt. “Daddy’s been thinking about you all day, baby.”

Peter finished getting his pants off and reached for Tony’s zipper.

“Yes… please, daddy…”


	75. 75

“I don’t know how I’m going to sleep the next couple of nights without you in my arms,” Tony told Peter, softly, his arms wrapped around the boy, who was once more in his lap, but now wonderfully satiated and pliant against him. “I’m addicted to you, you _know_ that, right?”

Peter smiled; it was almost the same as praise, and good enough to make him flush, happily.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

Tony kissed his ear, and sighed.

“My beautiful baby.”

“Mmm… _daddy_.”

The billionaire chuckled. He wasn’t the only one addicted, clearly. They hadn’t taken a lot of time with their loving, just then. Movies aside, sex in the back of a moving car – even a luxurious one – wasn’t as comfortable as sex in a bed or a shower or bathtub. But it had been _good_. Tony had made sure of it. Neither had any complaints.

“What else did you do today?” he asked, getting them both switched over from hot sex to the mundane. Although he could – _literally_ – spend all day telling Peter just how amazing he was. “Besides make cookies with Monica, find me a present and eat my cinnamon roll?”

“We went to the park with Boomer. She let _me_ walk him.”

“Really?” Not so impressive, but he sounded enthusiastic about it. Of course, the dog weighed more than he did, so it _was_ probably exciting for him. “He didn’t drag you along?”

“He’s pretty well trained.”

“It sounds like you had a good time.”

“Yeah, I did.”

Tony ran his hand along Peter’s side, sliding his hand under the sweatshirt he was wearing. He wasn’t trying to arouse; just then, even the teenager’s libido was slaked for the time being. He was feeling those ribs, and trying to decide if they were still as pronounced as they had been even a week ago.

“You had lunch?”

He knew that they did; Peter had taken a picture of him and Monica sitting outside a café with the huge dog and had sent it to him. It had been one of several pictures sent to him that day. Each one was another sign of Peter being happy, and Tony had created a file to store them in.

“Sandwiches and potato salad.”

“Good. We’ll get you settled into the room next to mine and have dinner with whoever is around. Then spend some time in my workshop, if you want – or you can look around, if you’d rather.”

“Are you going to start designing the nanotech into your suit?”

“I’ve got it drawn up in my head, but if I don’t get it into the system, FRIDAY can’t help me get it to integrate.”

“Can I watch?”

“Of course, honey.”

>><><><<<<>> 

No one was waiting for them when the car pulled up to the Avenger compound, but that wasn’t too much of a surprise. It was the end of a workday, _and_ the end of the week. They would all be finishing up whatever needed to be done before they could relax, or planning whatever they were going to do over the weekend. Just because some of them _lived_ at the compound, it didn’t mean they were always there.

Some would take the weekend and get away.

“Sunday evening, boss?” Happy asked, opening the back door and then going to the trunk to get Peter’s backpack for him.

“ _Afternoon_. I don’t want to get home too late.” He looked at Peter. “Okay?”

Peter nodded, taking his backpack and draping it over his shoulder.

“Thanks, Happy.”

“You’re welcome. See you guys Sunday.”

They headed inside, to Tony’s quarters, first. As much as the billionaire would have loved to have Peter in his rooms, and in his _bed_ that weekend, he figured that was probably pushing things, a little. They had to be low key, he’d explained to Peter. Even with his friends. The boy understood, and was willing to go along with whatever Tony needed from him. He sat on the bed and watched as the billionaire changed out of the suit that he was wearing and into jeans and a t-shirt with a zippered sweatshirt.

Then they went to the room next door, which wasn’t as luxurious, but was more than comfortable to a boy who had been homeless. Peter set his things on his bed, snatched up the bag of cookies, and he and Tony went to see who was in the lounge, and what they were serving for dinner.

>>>><<<>>< 

_“Peter!”_

Before they had done much more than entered the room, Peter found himself engulfed in a cheerful hug. He grinned, and Tony rescued the cookies before they could get crushed, or dropped, and the boy hugged Natasha.

“Hey.”

“How’s my favorite guy?” she asked, kissing his cheek before letting him go. “And who owns the dog you were hanging out with today?”

“That’s Boomer,” Peter told her as she grabbed his arm and pulled him over to an empty table, joined by Tony – and Bruce, who had been at the bar with Natasha when the two had walked in. “He’s _Monica’s_.”

“Ooooo, _Monica_ …” she smiled, giving Tony a sly look. “New _girlfriend_ …?”

Stark rolled his eyes, and sat down, putting the bag of cookies on the table.

“She’s _seventy_ – and has three boys and a half dozen grandchildren.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” she told him, smirking.

Peter grinned at the teasing; he loved the fact that she was so irreverent with the people around her. Including him.

“She lives in Tony’s building. _Under_ him.”

_“Oooooo…”_

“The floor beneath _mine_ ,” Stark corrected, also amused, but pretending to be annoyed. “Grow up, Romanoff.”

Bruce chuckled, and then peeked into the bag on the table, curiously.

“Cookies?”

Peter nodded.

“I made them Today. Natasha told me to bring cookies, so Monica helped me bake some.”

“You remembered?” the assassin asked, her beautiful eyes lighting up as she looked in the bag, too. “I _love_ you, Peter Parker.”

He blushed, pleased that she was so happy – which made Tony smile as everyone helped themselves to a cookie.

“Hey,” the billionaire cautioned as Peter was handed a chocolate chip cookie, as well. “Don’t spoil your dinner.”

“One cookie isn’t going to kill him, Tony,” Bruce said.

“How many cookies did you eat while you were baking them?” Tony asked Peter, pointedly.

“A few,” he admitted.

“And you had a cinnamon roll?”

_“Two.”_

“One cookie. Then you eat a real meal before you drown yourself in any more sugar.”

“He’s _tough_ ,” Natasha said, shaking her head, and taking a bite out of her cookie. “Come sit by me, Peter. I’ll let you have all the cookies you want.”

“And you’ll put up with him when he’s bouncing off the walls, later?” Tony asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No. Then he goes back to _you_ , of course.”

"One cookie, Peter," Tony repeated.


	76. 76

“Why are you out of bed?”

Peter started, dropping the puzzle piece in his hand, and looked over his shoulder. Natasha Romanoff had come up behind him without him hearing her. Which was saying something, because he heard _everything_ , now, it seemed, and it was pretty tough to sneak up on him – even distracted like he was.

“Oh. I couldn’t sleep.”

She sat down at the table he was sitting at – the same one they’d all had dinner at many hours before – her intelligent eyes studying him.

“Nightmares?”

He looked surprised, but she gave him a slight humorless smile. He didn’t know it, but she was very good at reading people, and Peter Parker was pretty much an open book to her. His eyes carried a somewhat haunted look to them, just then; a look that she’d seen many times – and had worn herself on several occasions.

“How did you- I mean… yeah. _Sometimes_.”

_“A lot?”_

“Yeah. All the time.”

She frowned.

“From being shot?”

He shook his head.

“I got them before that. Even when I was pretty little.”

“Do you know why?” she asked, reaching out and brushing his bangs back from his forehead.

“Ben and May had me going to a therapist. He said it’s probably because they woke me up when they told me that my mom and dad’s plane crashed. That maybe I’m afraid to sleep because something else bad might happen – or that I _think_ something bad is happening…”

Poor baby.

“They couldn’t do anything?”

He shook his head.

“Can’t protect me from my own imagination, I suppose.” Realizing that she’d just gotten more from him than pretty much anyone – except _Tony_ – Peter tried to change the subject, embarrassed. “What are _you_ doing up?”

They’d had dinner in the lounge, and Peter had enjoyed himself. Not only because the adults had made sure to include him in their bantering but because they (including Steve and Sam both, who had joined them) had worked their way through a large portion of the cookies and had made much of just how good they were. Which made Peter practically squirm with pride.

He’d have to make sure that Monica knew.

When they were finished eating, Peter and Tony had spent several hours in the workroom. Peter hadn’t really done anything more than keep Tony company while the older man had started the process of putting the ideas bouncing around in his head into the computer system that included FRIDAY, but it had been thrilling to the boy to watch him work. Especially since Tony hadn’t lost himself in what he was doing, like he said that he normally would.

Instead, he’d occasionally look over at Peter to tell him what he was doing, or what he was thinking. Including him in the process, and making sure that he wasn’t feeling left out. Or ignored. A couple of hours into his researching, FRIDAY chimed up, telling Tony that he had wanted to be reminded that it was getting late, and that they didn’t want to keep Peter up all night in his workshop. Tony had made an annoyed face, but the smiled at his own annoyance, and had turned off the display and held Peter for a long, quiet moment, his chin resting on the boy’s head.

Soaking up the love to take with him to bed, he’d said, softly.

Peter had soaked it up, too, and he’d felt calm when he and Tony had separated outside the boy’s door a short time later. He’d even managed to go to bed feeling that same calm. When he’d woken from the restless sleep a couple hours later, though, he’d known that he wasn’t going to get back to sleep any time soon, and hadn’t wanted to stay in bed. No matter how comfortable. Since that would have normally been a cue for him to get dressed in his spider suit and go out and watch the city below him – something he obviously couldn’t do just then from the compound, and because he didn’t actually _have_ a costume, anymore – he’d opted to take his $5.99 puzzle to the lounge and work on it.

It would keep him distracted, and wasn’t something that he was going to be able to finish in only a few minutes, so maybe he could get sleepy, again. Besides, it would keep him out of trouble.

“I don’t sleep that much,” Natasha told him, offhand, picking up the top of the puzzle box and looking at the picture.  “Pretty complicated.”

“Yeah. 5,000 pieces. I like the harder ones.”

“Can I help?”

“Sure.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each distracted by trying to find the edge pieces and put them together.

“How come you didn’t go cuddle up next to Tony when you had your nightmare?” she asked him, softly, not looking up from what she was doing.

“I’m not allowe-“ he froze, realizing what he was saying, and feeling the blood rushing from his face. He looked up at her. “I mean… I-“

She was quick to reassure when she saw the sudden panic in his expressive brown eyes – and the way he paled so quickly was a little frightening. The assassin didn’t want him passing out on her.

“It’s okay, Peter. _Really_.”

“How…? I mean. Did _Tony_ … We’re not-“

Romanoff put her hand on his arm, trying to ground him with the touch.

“I read people pretty well,” she told him. “You two aren’t hiding it.”

“Please don’t _tell_ anyone. He’ll get in trouble, and I-“

“I’m not going to tell anyone, sweetheart,” she assured him. “I haven’t, _yet_ , have I? And I’ve known for a while.”

“You _have_?”

She nodded.

“I told you; I _read_ people. It’s what I do. It helps keep me alive.”

“Oh.”

“He’s not hurting you? Making you do anything that you don’t want to do?”

Peter shook his head.

“No. He _couldn’t_ , really. I’m a lot stronger than he is.”

“Yeah. That’s pretty much the way I figured it.” She shrugged. “I, personally, think you’re good for him.”

“You do?”

Romanoff smiled.

“I’ve known Tony Stark a long time, now – before _he_ even realized it. He’s brilliant. And can be charming. And handsome, of course. But he can be focused to the point of self-destructive, and can be a real asshole, sometimes.”

“That’s what _he_ said,” Peter told her.

She chuckled.

“I told you, I read people well.” She poked him in the chest. “ _You_ are a good grounding for him. He clearly loves you – I don’t know if he's said it or not – and you give him someone to focus on other than himself. Besides, if he is watching out for _you_ , then he’s also going to take care of himself, by default. I can tell he’s been getting more sleep than he usually does, and he’s certainly smiling more than I’ve ever seen him, before.”

“He is?”

“Yes. He looks almost _happy_ ,” she told the boy. “It’s a good look for him. And for _you_.”

“I _am_ happy.”

“I can tell. Even if I couldn’t, the five hundred pictures that you texted me yesterday would have given me some kind of indication of your state of mind…”

He blushed.

“Sorry. I didn’t know who else to-“

“I’m _not_ ,” she interrupted, the apology. “I gave you my number for a reason and I _like_ seeing what you’re up to during the day. Don’t tell anyone, but you make _me_ happy, too, Peter.”

“I _do_?”

“Yup. You’re a good guy, and good company.”

If he _could_ have reddened further, he would have. It made her smile. Something that _she_ didn’t do enough, either.

“Thanks, Natasha.”

“You’re welcome.” They turned their attention back to the puzzle, and were silent for a few more minutes. “I promised you a helicopter ride, remember?”

“Yes.”

“Still interested?”

His eyes lit up.

_“Really?”_

“Not right _now_ ,” she told him, quickly, smiling. “But maybe this afternoon? The weather’s supposed to be clear.”

“Wow.”

“You’re going to need to be _rested_ , though,” she added. “I’m not going to take a sleepy, grumpy, teenager on any kind of extended flight. Let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

Peter nodded, looking down at the puzzle pieces on the table. He’d actually intended to finish it, but hadn’t gotten very far, yet.

“Let me get this cleaned up.”

“Leave it,” Romanoff suggested. “We’ll work on it, later. I love puzzle.”

“You _do_?” he asked, standing when she did.

“Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll fit in well, around here,” she told him, sliding her arm around his waist as they walked out of the lounge and toward the residential side of the compound. “We all like them. In one form or another.”

They were silent as they walked through the quiet corridors, and she looked at him when they stopped in front of his door.

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Okay.”

He hugged her, spontaneously, and she chuckled and wrapped him in her arms, holding him for a long moment before letting him go.

“Get some sleep.”

“I will.”

He went into his room, closing the door quietly behind him. Taking off his shoes, and the sweatshirt that he’d been wearing, he crawled back into his bed and bundled himself up under the blankets. When he did, eventually fall asleep, cuddling one of his pillows against his stomach, it was mostly dreamless.


	77. 77

A soft voice that was filled with love and cheer woke him. It was joined by a tender touch as a warm body slid under his blankets and cuddled up beside him, a hand sliding around him to hold him, close.

“Are you going to sleep all day?”

He smiled, and felt a gentle feeling of love wash over him as he opened his eyes and saw Peter watching him.

“I _might_. Are you going to stay with me, if I do?”

“If I did, I’d miss _breakfast_ ,” the boy pointed out, his chocolate eyes amused. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Tony groaned.

“That’s not fair.”

Peter smiled, and kissed him.

“Good morning, daddy,” he murmured, softly.

He gathered the boy into his arms.

“Tell me you locked the door.”

“Yeah.”

Tony kissed him, softly at first, and then with a little more fervor.

“Good morning, baby.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. How’d you sleep?”

“Okay. You?”

“Lousy.” He slid his hand down Peter’s belly and under the jeans he was wearing, finding Peter’s penis, and caressing it, lightly, while watching the boy.

“Oh… what’s _this_?”

Peter smiled.

“Keep _that_ up and I’m going to miss breakfast, too…”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Fine. But later, we’re going to have some _us_ time, understood?”

Still under the blankets with him, the boy rolled Tony onto his back and sprawled on top of him, straddling his hips and resting his head on Tony’s chest, holding him down in the best possible way.

“Yes, daddy.”

“God, I love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Natasha said she’d take me for a ride in the helicopter, today.”

He frowned, straining to look down at him.

“She _did_?”

“Yes.”

It was obvious that he was excited by the idea. Tony brushed his baby’s hair back from his forehead, admiring how those beautiful eyes lit up at the thought.

“Then I guess you’d better get off me so we can get some breakfast into you.”

The boy kissed his chest and rolled off, taking the blankets with him and landing on the floor in an undignified heap of tangled bedding and limbs.

“I’m okay.”

Tony chuckled and got himself out of bed.

>>><<><><>>>>< 

Fifteen minutes later, Tony was dressed and ready for his day, and they walked into the lounge – only to find a small group gathered around the table they’d eaten dinner at the evening before. Steve, Natasha, Bruce and Nick Fury were working on a jigsaw puzzle, and Peter smiled when he realized that it was the one he’d brought with him.

Natasha had been right; they _did_ enjoy puzzles. Obviously, since none of them had even looked up when they approached.

“What’s going on?” Tony asked, looking over Fury’s shoulder. “Is that _your_ puzzle?” he asked Peter, without waiting for a reply.

“Yeah. I started it last night.”

“Sit down, Tony,” Fury said, not looking up. “We’re going to have breakfast, soon.”

“I need _coffee_.”

Peter sat down, though, and immediately started looking for pieces, while Tony walked over to the bar area and poured himself some coffee, then brought it over and watched the people at the table. None of them were paying any attention to him, but occasionally one would reach over and steal a needed piece from one of the others’ pile.

“Bruce?” Tony finally spoke up, noticing that Banner and Peter were gathering edge pieces, methodically – scientifically, even – while the other three were going for the middle pieces. He thought that there was probably something in there that someone could do a study and write a paper on. The science of jigsaw puzzles or something. “Did you get a chance to finalize Peter’s web fluids?”

“Yeah, Tony. There's a supply in my lab for him.”

Romanoff looked up.

“I’m taking him up in the helicopter, today.”

Tony nodded, taking a sip of his coffee, amused, because she didn’t ask – and she wasn’t asking for permission. She was just making sure that he understood that she was going to need a chunk of Peter’s time that day so she could do it. He liked that about her; she was very strong-willed.

“Any destination in mind?”

“I’m making a couple of deliveries upstate. He could tag along and get a ride in the process.”

Peter looked up, too, his eyes bright. He _was_ asking permission, Tony realized.

“Sounds good. When are you going?”

“Sometime after breakfast.”

“After we get this thing put together,” Steve said.

“Are you going, too?”

“Yeah.”

Tony rolled his eyes, deciding that none of them were going to be any good for a conversation until they were finished with the puzzle. He looked around, pulled a chair over and sat beside Peter. With one hand resting on the back of the boy’s chair, he started looking for edges, as well.

>>>><><><>>> 

“You okay?”

Peter nodded, smiling, widely.

“Yeah.”

Steve reached around Stark and tugged on the harness the boy was wearing.

“He’s good, Tony.”

“Don’t fall out, alright?”

“I won’t.”

“He’d better not,” Natasha said, looking over from the pilot’s seat of the helicopter. “I’m not going to stop and get him until I’m on my way back if he does.”

“Hear that? You brought the woman _cookies_ and she’s not even willing to pick you up if you fall out of the helicopter…”

“I’ll be fine,” Peter assured him, sliding his hand along the leather of the flight suit that Natasha had secured for him. It was the smallest they had, but was still a little big on him. They fixed part of that by having him wear his hooded sweatshirt under it, which would also keep him warm while they were in the air. “What are you going to do while we’re gone?”

“Secret Avenger things,” the billionaire told him, mysteriously, his expression amused.

Peter had been allowed the front seat beside Natasha, who was piloting. Steve took a spot in the back once they’d secured the payload, which were just a few small wooden crates that had some training materials in them. Weighted faux weapons and the like. Nothing dangerous, or expensive enough that it would make a target of any of them.

“We’ll have lunch at our destination,” Romanoff told Tony, well aware that he’d want to know what their plans were. She handed a headset to Peter, and the boy put it on, practically radiating happiness at being allowed to be part of the flight crew. “And we’ll be back around three o’clock.”

“Sounds good.” He turned to Peter and smiled. “Have fun.”

“I will.”

Stark closed the door and latched it, and then stood back, watching as the helicopter lifted off, smoothly. Once it was out of sight, he went to see what Bruce had found as far as materials that were options for Peter’s suit.

>><<>>> 

“You good?” Natasha asked, looking over at Peter, watching for any sign of motion sickness.

Just because he could swing through buildings and didn’t mind the heights that came with climbing walls and the like, it didn’t mean that he was going to be a natural flyer, after all.

The boy nodded, looking over at her and then back at Steve.

“I’m great. _This_ is great.”

They could both hear him through the headsets that they were wearing, but he was so excited that they might have been able to hear him otherwise.

“Make sure you let us know if that changes,” Steve told him.

“I will.”

He was _fine_ , though, it was obvious. They both watched as Peter turned his attention to the landscapes that were whizzing by below them, and his young face never once gave any indication that he was anything but happy.


	78. 78

_“The helicopter is ten minutes out.”_

Tony was brought out of his musings by the announcement, and nodded, saving his research and turning off the display he’d been looking at.

“Thanks, FRIDAY. Everything looks okay?”

_“They haven’t reported any issues.”_

The billionaire nodded and got up, stretching as he did, knowing that he had plenty of time to walk from his workroom to the landing pad and see Peter.

“I’ll be on the helipad if anyone needs me.”

He was used to making sure she knew where he was going to be; he did it a lot in the _tower_ , mostly – although usually, it was a command where he would be and make sure everyone left him alone. Tony walked out into the afternoon sunshine and reached the edge of the helipad just as the helicopter was coming in for its landing.

Stark smiled, seeing Peter in the same spot that he’d been in and waving, frantically, when he noticed Tony was waiting. He lifted his hand in greeting, but waited until the rotors were turned off before walking to the machine and opening the door by Peter, even as Steve was opening his and pulling off his headset.

“How was the flight?” Tony asked, pulling Peter’s headset off, as well.

“It was _great_.”

The boy was beaming, but Natasha and Steve were smiling, too, so they must have agreed with him. He looked over Peter’s shoulder.

“Did you get your deliveries made?”

“We _did_ ,” Natasha told him.”

“Did you have lunch?”

“At the commissary at the base,” Peter said. “It was great. There were people all over, and they kept coming up to us, wanting pictures with Steve and Natasha – so I took a _lot_ of pictures for them.”

Tony smiled at his enthusiasm.

“No one wanted _your_ picture?”

“We didn’t know if you’d want him in any of them,” Steve pointed out. “He was fine taking the pictures for us, weren’t you, Peter?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

Tony unbuckled the boy’s harness for him as the other two unbuckled and hopped out of the helicopter, easily. Natasha came around to their side, joining them, and running her fingers through her tangled hair.

“We’re going to go debrief,” she told them. “Then I have a few things to take care of. You’re going to be here, tonight, too?”

Tony nodded.

“We’re here until tomorrow, yes. I finished Peter’s web shooter and I want t have him try it out – tomorrow.”

“I’ll want to see that,” Steve told them, making sure to garner an invitation to the demonstration. “I’ll see you all at dinner, though.”

“Thanks for taking me,” Peter told them, sincerely, as he jumped down from the seat. “It was a lot of fun.”

“You’re welcome. Go relax for a while.”

“But keep your flight suit where you can find it,” Steve said. “You might need it, again, some time.”

Which made Peter smile as the two Avengers walked away. That meant that there might be another flight in his future – which was exciting.

“I must not have annoyed them too much,” he said to Tony as they turned away from the helicopter, as well. “Or they wouldn’t want to take me, again.”

“You probably didn’t annoy them at all. I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“How do you feel?”

“A little chilly,” he admitted. “It’s cold up there – even with the sweatshirt on.”

It wasn’t super warm _outside_ , either, after all. Fall was there, and winter was getting close - even if it was sunny out.

“We’ll have you take a shower, honey,” Tony told him, resisting the urge to run his hand under the back of his sweatshirt to see if he was shivering. He’d found that a shower or bath was the quickest way to warm the boy up when he was cold, after all. “What was the best part of the flight?”

Peter smiled.

“All of it.”

Tony rolled his eyes as they reached Peter’s door.

“The _best_ part, though?”

“Hanging out with Natasha and Steve.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.” He walked into Peter’s room with him. “Give me your flight suit. I’ll go hang it in my closet for next time.”

Peter took off his shoes and stripped out of the flight suit, handing it over to Tony, who pulled him into his arms, taking advantage of the closed door to hug the boy, close.

“I missed you.”

He smiled and nestled his face against Tony’s neck, feeling happier than he could ever remember. It had been a _very_ good day.

“I missed you, too, daddy.”

Tony shivered, and held him for a long moment before forcing himself to let go. “Go shower, baby I’ll be back to check on you.”

Peter nodded and headed for the bathroom, pulling his sweatshirt off.

>>><><><><> 

When Tony returned to the boy’s room only a few minutes later, he closed and locked the door behind him. He went to the bathroom, opening the door and leaning against the doorway as he watched Peter shower. The boy was oblivious; he had soap running down his face from rinsing shampoo out of his hair and his eyes were tightly closed with his head turned up toward the spray. The billionaire decided that he might have put on a pound or two – at least, he didn’t look quite as _scrawny_ , and the ribs were still prominent, but his hips weren’t as bony as they had been.

He found his hand sliding down to his trace the outline of his suddenly aroused cock as he watched, thinking that he should be the one rubbing the soap on the boy’s body, not Peter. He didn’t join him, though. Instead, he simply watched, still caressing himself through the fabric of his pants, so that by the time Peter was finished and had turned off the water, Tony was throbbing and eager.

The boy smiled when he looked over and realized Tony was waiting for him, and the older man reached for a towel when he stepped out of the shower.

“You’re so beautiful, honey,” Tony told him, drying his hair, first and then engulfing Peter with the towel, drying his face and neck, then his chest and belly and then crouching down to dry his calves and thighs. He wrapped the towel around Peter’s rear and held the ends in either hand, pulling him closer so he could take the boy’s cock into his mouth.

“Daddy…”

Peter looked down, watching as Tony suckled on him, and then pressed in on him until his entire length was in his mouth, nudging into the back of his throat and down. The vibrations that Tony made in his throat were enough to send shivers along Peter’s entire body, and he rested his hand on the billionaire’s head to steady himself.

“Yes… _oh_ …”

Stark pulled back, letting Peter’s cock loose with a wet slurping noise, reaching for his zipper to free his cock as he was getting to his feet.

“I need you, baby. Please…”

Peter didn’t argue; he was definitely ready. If he was expecting Tony to take him into the bedroom, though, he was in for a surprise. The older man simply turned him, facing him toward the sink and the mirror that was over it. Peter watched their reflection as Tony turned his attention to the boy’s ass, running his hand along the round, damp skin and crooning.

“So pretty, honey,” he said, more to himself, as his fingers slid along Peter’s crack. “So sexy.”

Peter bent over a little, his hand sliding down to his hard, anxious cock and stroking himself.

“Yes, daddy. That feels good. Please…”

Tony didn’t have lube but he had lotion. Not as good, but doable. He slid a finger into the boy, playing with him; caressing and stretching, while Peter whimpered in pleasure and watched him in the mirror.

“My baby is so tight,” Tony said, his voice harsh with excitement. “Just for daddy, right, baby?”

“Yes, daddy. I need you.”

Another finger joined the first, and despite his arousal, Tony took his time playing with the boy, now that he knew how much Peter enjoyed it.

“Beg me, honey,” Tony said, finally, a third finger searching for Peter’s prostate and finding it, making him grunt in pleasure and practically collapse across the sink. “Ask daddy to fuck you.”

“ _Please_ , daddy?” Peter whined, looking over his shoulder and spreading his legs as far as he could. “Please fuck me.”

“Is that what you want?” Tony asked, looking at his reflection, now, utterly aroused at the sight of the boy bent over in front of him, completely in his control. “You want daddy’s cock inside you, baby?”

“Yes…. _Please_.”

Tony reached a hand to Peter’s hair, carefully taking a fistful and pulling his head back to face forward, drawing the boy’s attention to their reflection as his other hand guided his cock to the tight little hole that belonged only to him.

“Going to fuck my baby,” he crooned to Peter’s reflection. “Going to make you mine.”

“I _am_ yours, daddy,” Peter said, pressing back against the head of Tony’s cock. “All yours.”

Tony pushed himself into the boy’s hot, willing body and ground his hips against Peter’s, his motion slow and purposeful.

“Yes. So perfect. So amazing.”

Peter would have dropped his head if Tony didn’t still have hold of his hair. Instead, he watched the excitement in the older man’s expression as he drew back and then pushed himself back into him, thrusting with a measured pace, enjoying the boy under him.

“Please, daddy… harder.”

“Yes, honey. Whatever you want. Beautiful boy. Eager little boy. So perfect.”

Tony’s thrusts were quicker, now, and he leaned forward, over Peter’s back and nuzzled the back of the boy’s neck, his lips and tongue tasting the wet skin there. He gave in to the desire to nip him just as he thrust into him, his teeth leaving a small love bite on the back of Peter’s neck that made Peter gasp.

“Did that hurt, sweet boy?” Tony asked, shoving himself in deeper.

“Ow… no, daddy. _Please_ …”

Tony reached around him and his hand found Peter’s cock and started stroking him as he found a steady rhythm to fuck him, each thrust driving the boy forward, forcing him to brace himself against the vanity.

“Take me, honey,” he crooned as he fucked him, harder, now. “Take it all, lovely boy. _Beautiful_ boy.”

Peter climaxed, moaning as his cock erupted in Tony’s hand, spraying the billionaire’s hand and the front of the sink with hot cum. Tony wasn’t too far behind, and he drove deeper, now, grunting as his own orgasm rolled over him; his cock driving deep and spasming, as he painted Peter’s insides, wetly. He made a pleased noise as his hips jerked; once, twice and then a few more times in rapid succession, driving as deep as possible to make sure the boy was given everything that he had to give him.

“Oh, Peter…” he murmured, running his fingers along the welt that he caused on the back of the boy’s neck. “You’re so amazing, honey. So wonderful. So brave.”

The boy shuddered, happily, pressing against Tony’s deflating cock.

“That was good, daddy.”

“Yeah, it was,” Tony agreed, leaning over him as he slid out, and licking the mark he’d made. It was in a place that his shirt and hair could cover, but he was still feeling a little guilting for marking his baby. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. I’m okay.”

The billionaire turned him and wrapped him in his arms, holding him as they both came down from their climaxes.

“Back into the shower, honey,” he finally ordered, reaching for a dry towel. “Clean off, and then we’ll put you to bed and give you a rest until dinner.”

“Alright.”


	79. 79

Dinner was a good time for Peter – and the others, _because_ he was having such a good time. Tony and Bruce heard everything they’d ever want to – or _need_ to – know about the helicopter delivery made that day, and Romanoff and Steve heard it all over again. It was clear that Peter had had a fun time with the others, and equally clear, though, that he would have had just as much if they had made the trip by train or bus. It had been the company that he was keeping that had excited him, not necessarily the helicopter ride – although that had been fun for him, too.

When dinner was over, Tony wanted to do some research in his workroom and asked Peter if he wanted to come – although he warned him that there wasn’t going to be much manufacturing going on, just then. Mainly a lot of reading and designing. Nothing that interesting to observe, really.

Peter didn’t care. He wanted to spend time with Tony. He was in a bit of a mood, though, and feeling a little clingy. When Tony pulled a stool out for Peter before seating himself on one right beside it, the boy ignored the stool he was offered and leaned against Tony’s side, instead. The billionaire smiled, putting an arm around him and pulling him up against his side and pressing a kiss against his temple.

“Need some loving, honey?”

“No. Not really,” Peter said, resting his head against Tony’s shoulder. He couldn’t really sit in Tony’s lap when he was on a stool like that, because there wasn’t much of a lap to be presented. It was a little frustrating, since Tony’s lap was his favorite place to be, but he was willing to stand beside him and watch him, too. “I just want to touch you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Stark smiled, and brought the boy’s hand down to his groin.

“Touch me there, okay?”

“Alright.”

The older man turned on his display to find the place that he’d left off earlier, when he’d been interrupted by the return of the helicopter, and he smiled when Peter’s hand stroked him through his pants. A gentle caress, not heavy-handed petting. Like Peter had said; he simply wanted to touch him.

Tony kissed the boy, again, and turned his attention to what he was reading about the nanotech he wanted to try and adapt to his suit, shifting to give Peter free access to his cock, which was beginning to swell under the boy’s idle touch. He swiped a screen away, replacing it with some specifications that FRIDAY was suggesting that they try. About halfway through the results, a soft voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Daddy…?”

“I’m _working_ , honey,” Tony replied, not turning from the screen he was looking at.

“Okay.”

He sighed, turning his head to look at him.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Peter blushed, and looked away.

“Nothing.”

Stark smiled; he obviously wanted something, and was just having trouble asking. Of course, Tony was in the zone as far as researching the nanotech, but he wasn’t going to miss any chance to help Peter work on becoming better about asking for what he wanted, either.

“Did you want something, sweetheart?”

The boy hesitated, and then nodded, burying his face into Tony’s side, right by his armpit.

“Yes.”

“Brave boy…” the billionaire crooned. “Tell me what you want, beautiful. You know I’ll give it to you.”

“I know.”

Tony slid his hand along Peter’s back.

“Come on, honey. Be brave. You’re so _brave_. Right? You can say it. Tell daddy what my baby wants…”

Peter shivered in delight at the praise, playing with the strings on his ever-present sweatshirt and looking down at the bulge that he was stroking through Tony’s pants.

“Can I… suck you?”

He smiled; feeling his cock twitch at the request.

“You want to suck on daddy?”

Peter nodded.

“Yes.”

“I’m reading this…”

“I know.”

“Can you suck on me without making me climax?”

Peter looked up at him.

“What?”

Tony smiled, loving those beautiful eyes, so much. Even when they were confused and uncertain.

“You can play with me all you want, honey,” he told him, sliding his finger through his curls. “But I want to finish reading this. So, you can’t distract me by doing more. Just suck on me and play with me, but no making me cum until I’m done. Just keep me nice and hard. Think you can do that?”

The boy buried his face back in Tony’s shirt, but nodded.

“Yeah.”

It was muffled, but he still smiled – even though Peter couldn’t see it.

“Then do whatever you want, baby. Have fun.”

Peter held still for a long time, just pressing against his side, and Tony thought that he might have given up on the idea – although as far as the billionaire was concerned, it was still a win since the boy had been brave enough to actually vocalize what he wanted. When the hand that was in his lap started moving, again, he almost held his breath, waiting to see what Peter would do next.

The next step was to trace the outline of Tony’s cock inside his pants for several minutes. Long enough that the touch got the older man’s attention and started making him hard, once more. Tony changed pages to a different screen, and Peter opened the zipper and undid the button on the older man’s pants, and then reached into his boxers and fished out his cock.

He left Tony’s side, then, to part Tony’s knees and kneel on the floor between them, resting his hands on Tony’s thighs and sliding his tongue along the length of his shaft, which caused a hitch in Tony’s breathing that he tried to hide. Peter didn’t seem to notice. He licked his lips and drew the head of Tony’s cock into his mouth and the tried to take the entire length, only to gag himself and be forced to pull back.

Tony absently stroked the back of the boy’s head, lovingly, realizing that he was trying to practice deepthroating him. It made him smile as he turned his attention to what he was reading, once more. He had told him that he could practice on him, after all. If that was what he wanted to do, Tony wasn’t going to complain.

>>><<<<>><<> 

It was almost two hours later when Tony finally pulled his attention from the screen to give his complete focus to the boy who was still on his knees in front of him. His cock was achingly hard and covered in drool, which was soaking his shaft and his testicles. Peter was stubborn; Tony would give him that, but he hadn’t yet managed to take him all the way down his throat and more than once had gagged himself.

But he’d kept trying.

The billionaire brushed his hand against Peter’s forehead, pushing him back, and his cock came out of the boy’s mouth with a soft, slurpy, pop. Tony frowned when he realized Peter was crying. He hadn’t noticed from the angle he’d had, before. He pulled him off his knees and up into his arms.

“What’s wrong, honey?” he murmured, wiping one wet cheek with his thumb.

“I can’t do it.”

“Oh, precious…” he hugged him, close. “It takes a lot of practice, Peter. You’re not going to get it in the first try – unless I force myself down your throat and hurt you. Which I won’t ever do.”

“But you… you said you _want_ me to.”

“I want you to learn to deepthroat me, yes. It doesn’t _have_ to be right away. You didn’t learn to swing on your webs in a day, did you?” Tony asked, reasonably.

“No.”

“There. See?” he chuckled. “Look how hard you made daddy, sweetheart. I’m so _hard_ for you. It was more of a cock warming attempt, really, but I loved it.”

Peter sniffed.

“Really?”

“The evidence is standing straight up in front of you, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.” Tony wrapped both arms around him, holding him close. “So brave. So smart. You’re incredible, honey. All for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sore?” the older man asked, caressing the boy’s sides while keeping him close.

“A little.”

“Can you finish me off, now?”

“Yeah.”

Peter went back to his knees and now Tony watched him. The boy started stroking his shaft while lapping his tongue at the underside of the head of Tony’s cock, which made the man moan in approval.

“That’s my baby… right there, Peter. Honey, you’re so perfect for daddy. The best mouth…”

Peter mumbled, practically writhing under the praise and sliding Tony’s cock back into his mouth, sucking it and sliding his tongue along the length as he bobbed his head up and down on him.

“You’re so close to getting it, baby,’ Tony told him. Feeling his ardor rising and fighting the urge to thrust himself deep into the boy’s throat and fuck his gorgeous face, hard. “You're so wonderful.”

The hand left his shaft and began rolling his balls in his fingers, playing with them while he sucked Tony’s cock, and the billionaire’s palms went to Peter’s cheeks, pulling him back just a little so he could allow himself to thrust, a bit, which he did, fucking the head and a small portion of his cock into Peter’s mouth with quick, hard jerks.

“Take me, baby. Take daddy’s cock. So hard. I’m so fucking hard for my baby.”

He gave a somewhat strangled groan and his hips jerked as he felt Peter’s lips clamp down on the head of his cock, sucking hard as Tony climaxed, hot cum boiling into the boy’s mouth, only to be swallowed, eagerly. Tony moaned, his fingers curling in Peter’s hair, trying hard not to tug, but enjoying the sensation so much that it seemed to actually hurt for a moment.

Peter ground his mouth down onto Tony, able to take all of him as he deflated, and he sucked him hard, cheeks hollowing as he drew back on him, finally releasing him, looking up, as if to see how he’d done.

Tony smiled, and brought him back to his feet.

“You’re so amazing… have I told you that?”

Peter smiled and nodded, blushing in pleasure as Tony hugged him, lovingly.

“Yeah. You have.” He buried his face against Tony’s shirt. “But you could say it again… if you _wanted_.”

He felt the older man’s chuckle as well as heard it.

“God, I love you.”


	80. 80

“Where’s Peter?”

Stark sat down at the table, stealing a donut from Natasha’s little plate of them.

“He’s still asleep.”

“Sleeping in?” Bruce asked, smiling.

“Yeah, looks like it. I went by to check on him, but he looks wiped out, so I didn’t even press the issue. He can eat when he’s ready to get up.”

“He was up late last night,” Natasha told them.

“What do you mean?” Tony asked.

“I came in here around 2 am last night and he was building houses out of playing cards. Night before last we started that puzzle. I walked him back to his room around 5 o’clock.”

Bruce looked over at Tony.

“What’s that all about?”

“He has nightmares. All the _time_. You guys know about them – I _told_ you. That doesn’t even include the panic attacks.”

“From when he was shot?”

Natasha shook her head, answering before Tony could.

“They go back a long time before that. He told me that he started having them after his parents died in the plane crash – that he’s afraid to sleep, sometimes.”

Tony nodded.

“That’s what I was told, too. His aunt and uncle had him in therapy, but it doesn’t seem to have been doing much good, even before he lost them. I don’t imagine losing _them_ helped things.”

“Poor guy.”

Stark shrugged.

“Once we get him settled – when he decides what he wants to do – we’ll find him someone. Probably the aunt and uncle couldn’t afford the best. I _can_. Maybe they’ll be able to get him sorted out. At least let him get some sleep – sometimes.”

“I used to have trouble sleeping when I was a kid,” Bruce said, looking at Tony. “My folks got me a stuffed bear.”

“Mine got me a dog,” Sam told them.

Tony rolled his eyes.

“He’ll tell me he’s told old for a teddy bear – which he probably _is_ – and a puppy is a lot of work, and _messy_.”

“So don’t get him a _puppy_ ,” Steve said. “Get him a grown dog. One that’s house-trained, already.”

“That’s a good idea,” Natasha said, leaning forward. “He loves the dog that the old lady has, right?”

“ _Monica_ ,” Tony supplied. “And she won’t sell him.”

“I didn’t mean to buy _her_ dog,” Romanoff said – and now she was the one gracing him with the eye roll. “There are hundreds of dogs in the shelters and pounds and rescues. I’d bet you could find a match for him.”

“A dog would keep him company when you can’t be there,” Bruce pointed out.

“And if he decides he wants to live somewhere _else_ …?” Tony asked, scowling and feeling an ache deep inside at the thought of Peter anywhere but with him. “Then what? _I’m_ stuck with a dog.”

“Has he given you any indication of what he wants to do?” Steve asked, curiously.

“I discussed homeschooling him. I think he’d go for that. I don’t want to make him feel pressured to decide what he wants to do as far as foster care or permanent guardianship. It hasn’t been all _that_ long, yet, and I want him to feel comfortable.”

“Well, if there’s anything we can do,” Bruce told him. “We’re here.”

“Including dog-sitting?”

The scientist smiled, and shrugged.

“Why not?”

>>><><<<>>> 

“Where are we going?”

Tony smiled, looking at Peter’s reflection in the rearview mirror.

“It’s a _secret_. If I tell you, then I’d have to kill you.”

Peter rolled his eyes, amused.

“ _Natasha_?”

She shook her head, also smiling as she looked over her shoulder at him.

“Sorry, Peter. I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

They’d all been sitting at the table in the lounge when he’d finally made an appearance just after everyone else was finished eating breakfast. He looked tired, but he was in a good mood, and had eaten a hearty breakfast. Glancing at Natasha, Tony had suggested that they go for a drive, and Peter had agreed before even considering that he might want to know where they were going.

So, here they were. He was in the back of one of the SHIELD sedans, with Tony driving them somewhere, and Natasha riding shotgun – because she’d called it before he’d thought to. He watched the scenery passing with interest, and listened to Tony and Natasha talk about some project that she was working on with Steve, but it wasn’t something that he understood, so he allowed himself to zone out, and rested his head against the glass, dozing off a little.

He was still pretty tired from the last couple of sleepless nights. It was amazing how much better he slept when he was with Tony.

Peter didn’t know how much time had passed when he felt the car slow and turn off the highway. Startled, he jerked himself awake, looking out the window. The place looked something like a farm, and he frowned when Tony stopped the car.

“We’re here.”

“Where?”

Tony didn’t answer, he and Natasha just opened their doors, so Peter did, as well. He saw a sign that he’d missed because it had been on the other side of the car.

_Big Dog Rescue_

“You’re getting a dog?” Peter asked, Tony, confused.

“No… we were thinking that maybe _you’d_ want a dog.”

He felt a momentary thrill of excitement go through him, and smothered it immediately with a hard shoe of reality.

“I can’t have a dog.”

Tony and Natasha both looked at him.

“Why not?” Stark asked.

“Because homeless kids can’t have dogs…”

“You’re not _homeless_ , anymore,” Tony pointed out, resting a hand on his shoulder. “ _Formerly_ homeless kids can have a dog – or at least look around and see if maybe there’s a homeless _dog_ out there looking for a new friend.”

“We’re just _looking_ …” Natasha assured him, also bolstering him. “But who knows…?”

Peter hesitated, clearly torn, and Tony couldn’t resist pulling him into his arms and hugging him, tightly, for a moment.

“We’ll just go take a look, okay? I was thinking I’d like a dog. I didn’t even know they were allowed in the building, but if Monica can have a big guy like Boomer, then we could get one, too.”

“Are you sure?” the question was muffled by his shirt and Tony looked over at Natasha, feigning confusion.

“What did he say? Did you hear something?”

She chuckled.

“Come on. Let’s see what they have,”

Tony let go of Peter, and they walked into the main building. Into a lobby, of sorts. An older woman with a no-nonsense demeanor was standing behind the counter and smiled, immediately.

“Mr. Stark.”

“Mrs. Lane?”

“Yes. It’s a pleasure. I was so glad to get your call this morning.”

Tony smiled.

“Thank you for allowing us to come out – especially since you’re not usually open on Sunday.”

“You’re welcome, of course.”

Tony put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, drawing him forward, when he clearly wanted to hang back.

“This is _Peter_. We’re thinking that we might be interested in finding a dog. If we found one that doesn’t want to _eat_ us.”

Natasha snorted, amused, and the woman came out from behind the counter, all smiles. Tony was good at charming people when he wanted to, and he had managed to get her to open her door on a Sunday, so he was definitely not going to be a bastard, now, clearly.

She looked at Peter.

“Let’s go look at some of the dogs, Peter,” she said. “Maybe we’ll find the one who’s been looking for you.”

She didn’t give him a chance to turn shy. Instead, she led him to a door, and when she opened it, they could all hear a lot of loud barking. Peter followed her, and found himself in a hallway. There were kennels on both sides, with dogs looking at him. Each one held a single dog, and there were fifteen, he saw as they walked down the length of the building.

Not all of them were barking, but they were all watching him and the others as they passed by.

“These dogs are all _big_ ,” Tony murmured to Natasha, looking at the selection.

“The place is called _Big Dog Rescue_ , Tony.” She pointed out. “What did you expect?”

“Full grown dogs. Full grown _small_ dogs. Big dogs, not _puppies_ …”

“Well, these are _big_ dogs.”

They slowed when Peter slowed ahead of them, and the boy looked into one of the kennels. He looked at the woman, who nodded, and she opened the door to the kennel, allowing Peter to go inside. By the time Tony and Natasha reached the doorway, the boy was sitting on the concrete floor of the kennel, staring up at the dog who dominated the area. A huge dog who was wagging its tail, idly, as it sat in front of Peter and watched him.

“ _That_ is a big dog…” Tony said.

The woman smiled over at him, understanding the awe in his voice – and expression.

“This is Bob. He’s a mastiff. Two years old, and the sweetest guy you’ll ever meet.”

“He’s _soft_ ,” Peter said, reaching a hand out to brush his fingers against the big animal’s chest.

The dog lowered his head and licked Peter’s neck – probably tasting him to see which part to eat, first, Tony decided.

“Careful, Peter,” Tony said, uncertainly.

The woman smiled.

“He’s fine, Mr. Stark. Mastiffs look big and dangerous, but they’re one of the most laid-back breeds there are. Perfect for apartments, and they don’t require a lot of exercise. Just a comfortable place to lounge and someone willing to love up to them.”

“What’s his story?” Natasha asked, curiously.

“Oh, he belonged to a Marine who was killed overseas. His parents were watching Bob for him, but when he died… they just couldn’t handle everything coming at them, and the care for a large breed dog. He’s neutered, up to date on all his shots, without flease and is well-behaved.”

“How long has he been here?” Peter asked, still running his hand along the huge dog’s coat.

“Almost a month, now. His size makes adopting him out rather difficult. It can be daunting.”

The dog leaned into Peter’s scratches, and flopped down, pretty much on top of the slight boy, who laughed, and wrapped his arms around the big, blocky head.

Natasha looked over at Tony, who was watching the two in the kennel.

“What do you think?” she asked, softly. “He’s pretty big. Maybe we should find a _poodle_?”

Stark shrugged.

“Peter?”

The boy looked up at him, half buried under the dog that easily weighed what he did – and almost certain much more. His brown eyes were happy.

“He’s pretty neat.”

“ _You’d_ have to walk him…”

On the plus side, with the boy’s strength, at least they didn’t need to worry about Bob running off and dragging him.

“I would.”

“And pick up after him…”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want him?” Peter nodded, wordlessly, and Tony shrugged, giving the woman a _what can you_ _do_? look. “Looks like Bob’s going to be an Avenger.”


	81. 81

Since it was Sunday, and a down day – as much as can be had for a person who was more or less on call to save the world whenever it might come up – there was a small group of them waiting when word came that Tony, Peter and Natasha were arriving back at the compound. When the car pulled up to the entrance, they all noticed immediately that Peter wasn’t alone in the backseat.

_“Wow…”_

Steve stepped forward, but Peter opened his door before Captain America could and he scrambled out, grinning hugely at the people who were watching.

“Look, Steve,” Peter said, excitedly, since he was closest. “Tony got a _dog_.”

Stark had already opened his door, getting out of the car, as well, and heard the comment.

“You’re missing a word in that sentence,” the billionaire said. “I did _not_ get a dog. I got _you_ a dog.”

Which made the boy's smile grow, if that was even possible. He looked back into the car and crooned encouragement, and with a sigh, the dog in the backseat unfolded itself and ambled out of the sedan, stepping down rather than jumping. He came to stop beside Peter, who set his hand on its head. Which came up to the boy’s waist.

“This is _Bob_ ,” Peter told them all. “Isn't he great?”

“That is a _lot_ of dog,” Sam said, smiling.

“Yeah, it is…” Rhodey looked over at Tony, who was watching Peter with a slight smile. “Is he going to fit in your apartment?”

“We might need a shoehorn, but once we get him out of the elevator, he should be fine.”

“The woman at the shelter said mastiffs like Bob, here, are actually a good breed for apartments,” Natasha added, coming around from the other side of the car and standing by the dog. “They’re easy going and lazy.”

“Perfect dog for me,” Tony said.

“I think he’s amazing,” Bruce said, dropping in front of the dog and rubbing his face. The dog wagged his tail, clearly willing to be friends with them all. “Where’s his _saddle_?”

Peter laughed.

“I don’t know about a saddle,” Stark said, popping the trunk. “But we have everything else that one needs to maintain a happy and healthy Bob. Food, toys, brushes and a bed – along with a very cool automated feeder – that I will tweak a little to make it more efficient. Let’s get it unloaded, so we can put it in the limo when Happy comes.”

“How much does he weigh?” Fury asked, curiously.

“One-ninety,” Natasha answered rubbing the big head. “I asked to have him put on the scale before we left. Just to see."

“What does _Peter_ weigh?”

“One-fifteen - according to the same scale."

“But we’ll get some more meat on him,” Tony added as Steve and Sam started pulling large bags of dog food from the trunk and stacking them against the wall. “He’ll probably never match Bob, but we’ll do our best.”

“Does he know any tricks?” Bruce asked.

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted, looking at the dog.

“Hey, Bob,” Banner said. “ _Sit_ , buddy.”

The huge dog planted his rear in the grass, immediately, wagging his tail.

“Awesome.” Peter rubbed his side. “ _Good boy_.”

“Shake?” Bruce offered his hand and was immediately given one giant paw.

“He’s a _genius_ ,” Sam said, amused.

“He’ll have to be,” Natasha said. “If he wants to fit in around here.”

Peter just smiled, proudly, and looked over at Tony, his expression telling the billionaire thank you in a million ways. Tony decided those happy brown eyes were worth the dog hair that he was probably going to find on his couch every day for the unforeseeable future.

>>><><><>> 

Tony had intended to spend the time before Happy returned for them in his workroom, finishing the nanotech research. What he ended up doing, instead, was having lunch with the others and then watching as Peter and Bob became better acquainted. Stark decided that a dog had been a really good idea, even if he _had_ ended up with dogzilla, rather than a smaller animal.

“ _Jesus_ , Peter,” Happy said when they went out to meet the driver, and introduce him to their newest family member. “Who did you steal the cow from?”

“Tony got him,” Peter replied, holding the leash, but fairly certain that the dog wasn’t going to run away. “Isn't he neat?”

Happy looked over at Tony, who shrugged.

“What can I say? I thought he could use some company whenever I’m not home.”

“I think he’s amazing, Peter,” the driver said, scratching the dog’s head, making friends with him. “It’ll be fun to see who walks whom when you guys go out.”

“He’s pretty calm.”

“Let’s get his things loaded up and get him home,” Stark suggested, gesturing to the mammoth pile of supplies they had laid in for their new pet. “If Monica’s home, tomorrow, you can introduce him to her and Boomer.”

“He doesn’t get car sick, does he?” Happy asked, picking up the enormous dog bed Tony had bought from the shelter.

“He didn’t have any trouble coming back with us,” Stark assured him.

Peter handed Tony Bob’s leash, stepping up to help Happy with the heavy lifting. Tony smiled down at the big dog, rubbing his fawn colored fur, idly. He was a pretty impressive dog. One thing about it; no one would even _think_ about screwing with Peter when the two were out walking. His baby would be safe when Tony wasn't around.

They’d already said their goodbyes to the others who had to get ready for their week ahead, so when the trunk was loaded, Happy held the door for Tony, who bundled Peter and their new dog into the backseat and settled in for the ride home.

Bob took the seat across from Tony and Peter without asking for permission, and the big dog lounged indolently on the expensive leather, handling the luxury as casually as he’d handled being oooed and awwwed over by Avengers all afternoon. Peter smiled and climbed into Tony’s lap as the car pulled out from the compound, definitely in the mood to be held and to hold.

“I said thank you, right?” he asked, tucking his head on Tony’s shoulder and straddling his hips.

“You _did_.” He turned his head to kiss his baby and smiled. “It was a good idea, I think.”

“Yeah. A _great_ idea. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”

They were quiet for a long moment, simply enjoying being together, and then Peter spoke up, again.

“I want to live with you, Tony,” he said, softly, burying his face into Stark’s neck.

Tony felt a thrill of happiness go through him, but forced it down and simply hugged the boy.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“But I don’t want you to be my guardian…” he trembled, and Tony ran his fingers through the boy’s hair. “I don’t want the CPS people to be able to take me away from you. It scares me that they might try."

“So we’ll get you emancipated, honey,” Tony told him. “Then they won’t have any authority over you. You won’t be under the state’s control.”

Only _his_.

“Yeah. I’ll get a _job_ , too,” he added. “So I can prove that I have income.”

“You don’t need to, though,” Tony crooned. “ _I’ll_ take care of you, Peter.”

“But I _want_ to. It'll be better... then you don't have to be my sugar daddy - only my _daddy_. I could probably bag groceries or something. There aren’t a lot of places that can hire a person my age.”

It was clear to the billionaire that he’d been thinking things through, but Tony wasn’t going to have his baby working at a grocery store for minimum wage – which was all a sixteen-year-old would be making, he knew.

“There’s always interning at the tower,” he pointed out, sliding his hand under Peter’s sweatshirt and brushing his fingers along the tender skin of the boy’s back. “Or, even _better_ , I know Bruce was bitching about needing help in his lab. A part-time lab assistant makes a decent wage – more than enough to buy a ton of dogfood every month. I’ll tell him to hire you. That way we won’t have any problems working out a schedule.”

Peter chuckled.

“You’ll homeschool me?”

“Yes. _Professor_ Stark, at your service.”

“That sounds sexy…”

Tony chuckled, turning his head to brush his lips against Peter’s temple. It actually _did_ sound sexy. Maybe they could do some roleplaying with it. He’d have to see what the boy thought of that. Later.

“ _You’re_ sexy, honey,” he told him. “I’ll have Pepper get whatever forms we need to have filled out, and we’ll take care of that sometime this week.”

“But you’ll still _want_ me?” he asked, not looking at him. “Even if you’re not my official guardian?”

“I’ll want you no matter what, Peter,” the billionaire told him, sincerely. “You’re my baby. My lover. Everything to me.”

Peter trembled and Tony knew he was feeling overwhelmed. It was easy enough; Tony was a little overwhelmed, himself, and he wasn’t sixteen. He was _relieved_ , though, that Peter wanted him, still, and he felt the sting of tears as he buried his face against the hood of the boy’s sweatshirt, stealing some comfort from him.

“So amazing,” Tony crooned, finally, pulling away just enough to look down at him. “Everything I could ever want. Beautiful. Smart. Brave. Funny. _All mine_. Right?”

“Yes.” The boy kissed Tony’s jaw. “I’m _definitely_ yours, daddy.”

“ _God_ … When we get home, you can _show_ me."

"I will."

With that, he settled against the billionaire, his hand sliding under his shirt, idly touching him while watching the scenery go by.

Tony's hand went down between them, and Peter shifted just enough to give the older man access to him, then sighed in pleasure when he felt himself being caressed, making Tony chuckle.

"Is that good, baby?"

"It's perfect."


	82. 82

It didn’t take a shoehorn to get Bob into the elevator, but the huge dog definitely made an impact on the apartment, large as it was. Peter dropped Bob’s leash as soon as they got off the elevator and he set a bag of supplies on the coffee table. Then he told Tony that he and Happy could bring up the heavy bags of dog food, if Tony wanted to start organizing things where he thought they would work best.

“I’m more than capable of carrying the heavy things,” he’d pointed out to the boy – _and_ to his driver.

“But why should you?” Peter asked. “I don’t mind.”

Happy didn’t, either, and the two left Tony to decide where to put Bob’s dog bed – which was roughly the size of the couch. He looked down at the dog, who was looking around the area, seemingly unimpressed that he was now in the position to be the most spoiled dog on the planet. It was a long way from sitting in a kennel waiting for someone to swing by and choose him.

The billionaire was actually pleased by Peter’s choice. Bob was apparently as easygoing as had been promised, but his size was going to be a deterrent that would keep Peter safe when they were out walking. No one would mess with his baby with that huge creature beside him.

He understood how Monica’s son probably felt, now, knowing their mother was safe with Boomer near at hand.

“Let’s get you settled, hey?” With that, he took the harness and leash off the dog, hung them up on a small hook near the door. Along with it was a roll of plastic bags, and Tony smiled; visualizing Peter standing next to Bob, waiting for the dog to do his business. Hopefully the bags were big enough. Bob wasn’t a little guy, after all. He double checked the new collar to make sure the fit wasn’t too tight, and slapped the dog’s side, affectionately.

There were tags for his shots and one that had his microchip registration, but that was it. Tony would need to get one that had Bob’s name, and Tony’s cell number – just in case. The dog bed came up with Happy, who looked for some direction where to put it. Tony pointed to the large empty space under the TV. A cardboard box was found, and they put all the toys that Natasha and Tony had decided that the dog couldn’t live without before they left the rescue place, as well as all the grooming equipment needed to keep him healthy.

Tony would take Peter and Bob to a pet store, soon, and find a proper toy box, but that would do for now.

“This is the living room,” he told the dog. “You do not _pee_ or _poop_ in the living room. But as long as you make Peter happy, you can do anything else that you want. Got it?”

He didn’t get an answer, but he wasn’t expecting one. Bob merely walked over to his bed and flopped down on it, giving a sigh as mighty as if he’d been running a marathon. Then he set his head on his front paws and watched as the elevator door opened and Peter came in with a bag of dog food slung over each shoulder, and Happy had one over his.

“This will last him, what? A _week_?” the driver asked.

“At least you don’t have to carry it up the stairs,” Tony pointed out, gesturing for them to put the dry food in the pantry.

There was an automated feeder, and a large bowl for water. Both went into the kitchen out of the way, and Peter filled the food dish with kibble and put water in the bowl.

“Need anything else?” Happy asked, wiping his brow.

“Nope. We’re good.”

“See you in the morning, then.”

“Thanks, Happy,” Peter said, smiling over at Bob – who was asleep.

“You’re welcome.”

The driver left and Peter looked at Bob with a somewhat possessive smile before turning to Tony, who took hold of the front of his sweatshirt and pulled him close for a gentle kiss.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.” He leaned into Tony, though, asking to be held, and the billionaire put his arms around him, tucking his head under his chin. “ _Daddy_ …”

“Oh, baby… I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They were still for a long time, simply being together after a weekend of not being as close as either wanted to be.

“You okay?”

“Yes. It’s just so much.”

“I know, honey.” Finally deciding what he wanted to do – or at least, voicing that decision – was probably a huge relief to the boy. It was to Tony. He’d been so nervous – _afraid_ , even – that Peter would want to go somewhere else. Be with a normal family dynamic. A mom. A dad. Maybe even siblings. Tony couldn’t be that for Peter, and he knew it. But that wasn’t what Peter wanted, apparently. And Stark squeezed him, hard, before he kissed his temple and let him go, stepping back. “Let’s get dinner started.”

Peter nodded, and followed Tony into the kitchen, leaving Bob to his well-deserved nap.

“What are you going to make?”

“Something _easy_ , I think,” Tony replied, opening the fridge to check for options. “Burgers?”

“Yeah.”

Peter sat at the island while Tony pulled out ground beef and a few other ingredients to mix into it. They discussed the research Tony had been working on – which hadn’t been finished, because it had been interrupted with Bob’s sudden arrival into their lives – and how he wanted to apply it. While Tony started the burgers on the grill in the island, he had Peter pull out a bag of chips and some carrot sticks.

“Not the healthiest meal,” he said with a shrug. “But it’ll work.”

“Smells good.”

They ate at the island, and then Tony told Peter that he’d do the dishes, while the boy took Bob out for a last chance to do any pressing business before bedtime. Peter grinned and went for the leash and harness, and looked over at the dog.

“Bob.” Big, brown, eyes opened and looked over at the sound of his name. Peter held up the leash. “Want to go out?”

“Use the harness, too, honey,” Tony suggested. “Until you get a feel for each other.”

The dog ambled over and presented himself to be hooked into the harness, tail wagging, idly and his nose going to Peter’s hand – probably smelling the burger the boy had eaten.

“We’ll be back in a minute,” Peter said, grinning in anticipation of taking the dog for their first walk. He snapped the leash onto the harness, grabbed the bags, and they headed for the elevator. “Maybe two.”

“Around the block and right back, okay?”

“Right.”

Stark wondered what people would think, seeing the two of them walking. The dog pretty much dwarfed the boy, after all. He gathered up the dishes and cleaned up the small mess that he’d made cooking. Then he went into his room and changed into pajama bottoms and nothing more.

He wasn’t going anywhere the rest of the night, after all.

He was just coming out of his bedroom when the elevator announced its presence with a ding and opened, Peter still smiling, hugely as he stripped the harness off the dog and hung everything up.

“Well?” Tony asked, walking to the sofa and sitting down, while Bob did the same at his bed. “How did he do?”

“He was _good_ ,” Peter reported, leaning over the back of the sofa and resting his cheek next to Tony’s. “He didn’t tug on me, or anything.” The boy smiled. “We got a lot of looks, though.”

“I bet.” The billionaire ran his hand along Peter’s cheek before turning his head and kissing him. “Let’s go to bed, okay? I need to hold you.”

Peter just nodded, and waited for Tony to get up. The older man slid an arm around his waist and led him into the bedroom, and then sat on the edge of the bed and watched Peter undress.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he told the boy as Peter pulled off his sweatshirt. “Come here; let me help you.”

Tony parted his knees and Peter walked over, pulling his t-shirt off, while Tony reached for the boy’s jeans and unbuttoned them.

“Is there anything you want in particular, tonight, honey?” he asked as he pulled Peter’s jeans and boxers down, freeing his semi erect cock and helping him step out of them so he didn’t trip. “Something you’ve been aching for but couldn’t do over the weekend?”

Peter flushed, and shook his head, his hips shifting just a little, silently pleading for attention for his cock.

“Daddy…”

Tony smiled, his hand sliding along Peter’s shaft as he looked up at him, feeling himself getting lost in those gorgeous brown eyes.

“Ask me, honey. Be brave. You can do it. You’re so amazing. So _beautiful_.” He coaxed the boy with praise, while he worked his cock, getting him hard, but not doing more than simply touching him. “Tell me what you want daddy to do.”

“Please…”

“Please, _what_ , baby? _Say_ it.”

“Suck me.”

Tony smiled, his arms coming around Peter hips to hug him.

“So brave. My big, brave boy.”

Peter trembled in reaction to the praise, and Tony opened his mouth and drew the boy in, his tongue already sliding along the slit to taste the precum forming there.

“Yes…”

The boy put his hands in Tony’s hair, more for support than any real concern that he needed to keep him in place, and Tony deepthroated Peter, humming as the boy’ cock hit the back of his throat. He pulled back and started sucking him, teasing with lips and tongue – and once, teeth, but very carefully. Peter whimpered and the grip in Tony’s hair tightened.

“More, daddy…” he gasped. “Please. _Please_ , daddy…”

Now, of course, it was Tony who was shivering as he sucked Peter in, deeply, his fingers coming to stroke him, and to tease the boy’s testicles as he drew him closer and closer to his release. He mumbled something incoherent because of the cock in his mouth, but a hand slid around Peter’s hip once more, and this time a finger nudged the boy’s ass.

He gasped and climaxed with a strangled cry of enjoyment, pressing his hips forward as Tony’s lips tightened around the head of his cock and his tongue began slurping the hot cum being fed into him. Tony supported Peter; holding his hips as he drained him, and then cleaned him off with loving licks of his tongue before looking up at him.

“You did so well, baby,” he crooned, his hands kneading the boy’s ass, his lips pressing tiny kisses against the skin around Peter’s cock. “So good for daddy.”

“Yes…” he was still coming down from his orgasm, and Tony smiled.

He loved seeing Peter like that. Dazed and fucked senseless. Well, so far, simply _dazed_. He pressed the boy back a step, still holding him as he stood up, and then kissing him, hungrily as he took care of his pajamas.

“Come to bed, honey,” he murmured, drawing the boy down with him as he settled back onto the mattress. “Daddy’s going to show you what _he_ wants to do, now.”


	83. 83

“You got a _dog_?”

Tony nodded.

“Technically, I got _Peter_ a dog. _Bob_.”

He held up his phone, which already held several different pictures of Peter and Bob together.

Predictably, Pepper was surprised by the size of him.

“What are you going to do with _that_ monster?”

“He’ll be good company for Peter.”

He already was proving that.

Tony had been woken in the middle of the night by the boy’s restless sleep, but the billionaire was right there with him and tucked him back up against his belly, big spoon to Peter’s little spoon, holding him close and whispering comfort into his ear. Peter had never actually woken up, and he stilled almost immediately, dropping back into a sound sleep with a sigh. Tony had followed almost immediately.

When morning came, they’d still been curled together, only somehow Peter had rolled in Tony’s arms and now had his face pressed against his chest, breath warm against his bare skin. Tony hadn’t planned on getting up, just yet, but a cold nose in the small of his back had made him screech in a decidedly unmanly fashion, bringing them both fully awake in an instant.

Bob needed out.

Peter had grumbled, good-naturedly, about being dragged from warm arms to go outside, but he’d dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, slipped his bare feet into shoes, harnessed the dog and headed to the elevator. While they were out, Tony rolled out of bed, waiting for his heart to catch its rhythm once more and then took a shower so he could start breakfast.

“I’m going to be gone most of the day,” Tony had told him while Peter fed his dog, and the older man scrambled eggs and ham together for them. “I put money in your wallet, if you need something – or if _Bob_ does.”

Peter had nodded, not bothering to tell Tony that he didn’t need to give him money, because he’d already tried that, and it obviously didn’t work.

“If Monica is home, I’ll have her meet Bob. Otherwise, we’ll go to the dog park and then probably just hang out here.”

They had been told – and then had researched on their own to confirm – that a mastiff didn’t require a lot of exercise and didn’t really appreciate it. So Peter and the dog wouldn’t go for a run, or anything like that. A calm day just getting to know each other was the plan.

“I don’t have any leftovers for your lunch,” Tony reminded him, kissing him, tenderly. “So find something while you’re out.” Meaning, he didn’t want to come home and find his kitchen in shambles because Peter tried making his own lunch. “We’ll have spaghetti for dinner.”

“Okay, daddy.”

The billionaire had smiled, and they’d simply held each other until FRIDAY announced Happy’s arrival in the garage. Peter had shooed him on his way, saying that he’d take care of the dishes. Tony kissed him again, and had left – going straight to Pepper’s office when he arrived at the tower.

He’d off-handedly mentioned that he and Peter had discussed what the boy wanted to do, and she said that she’d get started on the paperwork needed and have one of their high-priced lawyers get everything ready for signatures.

“So what is he going to do?” she asked, looking from the pictures over to Tony.

“He’s going to stay with me.” He had to smother the absolute happiness that welled up inside him at the thought. “I certainly am not going to buy him a dog and then let him leave me alone with it.”

Pepper smiled.

“Are you going to be able to handle everything that entails? I assume you’re going to homeschool him?”

“I _am_ – and I _can_. He’s old enough that he doesn’t need a sitter, and Bob will keep him safe when he’s out and about without me. The others have already said they’d help with the homeschooling if the need arises.”

“And if you need to leave town, suddenly, because of an Avenger issue…?”

“He can go stay at the compound until I get back. Him and Bob, both.”

She nodded; it was clear that he’d thought it all through – and none of the responses had done anything to make her think that she was going to end up with Peter overnighting at her place. Although, if an emergency came up, she’d consider it.

“And an income? Would you like me to set him up an internship?”

“No. He’s going to be hired as a lab assistant for Bruce. Set _that_ up, too, will you? Make sure he’s making a preposterous amount of money, too. Lord knows _I_ can’t afford to feed that dog.”

Pepper smiled.

“I’ll take care of it. When will he start?”

“We’ll have to wait and see what his schooling is going to look like, but next week should be soon enough. Yeah?”

“I think so.”

“Thank you.” He looked at his phone, which suddenly buzzed him, and held it up, showing her the newest selfie that Peter had sent him. A picture of Peter and Bob out on the balcony, with the city laid out behind them. “I’ll be in my workroom.”

“We have a meeting in half an hour.”

“Send me a heads-up,” he told her as he headed out the door.

>>><<<><>>>>< 

 

He managed to leave a little earlier than he’d intended, which was all to the good as far as Tony was concerned. Happy dropped him off, and Tony allowed a tired sigh to escape as he entered the elevator. It hadn’t been a bad day, really; it had just seemed to drag forever. There had been three meetings. Three. He was beginning to think that all they paid the VPs for was to sit on their asses in meetings and bore him into a slow, mind-numbing, stupor.

The only highlight to his day had been intermittent texts from Peter. Every one containing a picture. Him and Bob walking on the sidewalk in front of the apartment building. Him and Bob at the off-leash dog park, Him sitting outside of a deli, sharing a sandwich with Bob. None had Monica, so he assumed that she was at the flower shop that day.

He walked out of the elevator and found Bob on the couch with Peter, both of them asleep. The big dog woke as Tony approached, his head coming from Peter’s lap to watch Tony, tail wagging. Peter was leaned back, head against the back of the sofa, pillowed by the hood of his sweatshirt.

“You’re in my spot, mister,” Tony whispered to the dog, gesturing for him to move.

He was surprised when Bob made a grumbling noise deep in that massive chest of his and moved off of the sofa and over to his dog bed. Tony Settled in beside Peter, brushing his fingers along the boy’s cheek, waiting for the touch to wake him.

It was only moments before the brown eyes that the older man loved so much fluttered open and he smiled when he realized who was with him on the sofa, now.

“Hi, daddy.”

Tony’s echoing smile was just as tender.

“Hi, honey. Did I ever tell you just how beautiful you are?”

The boy flushed with sleepy pleasure at the compliment.

“No. _Maybe_.” He was sure he _had_. “You can say it, again, though.”

Tony slid his hands under Peter’s sweatshirt, caressing the boy’s sides with his calloused fingers.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing him. “So perfect for daddy.”

“Mmm…” Peter slid his hand down to Tony’s lap, but the older man caught him, holding him.

“I’m not ready to make love to you, just yet, honey,” he told him, smiling at the boy’s willingness – and loving him all the more for it. Peter was awake, now, and he wanted to keep him awake. If he fucked the boy senseless, he’d fall asleep on him – almost for certain. “Come cuddle.”

Peter chuckled and climbed into Tony’s lap, straddling him and leaning back, his brown eyes twinkling with good health and cheerfulness, now that he was awake.

“I missed you,” he said, reaching for Tony’s tie.

“Yeah?

“Uh-huh.” The tie went to the coffee table, barely missed being dropped on the floor when Peter carelessly tossed it aside. “I had Bob for company, but we would have had more fun with you, too.”

“I’m going to take tomorrow off and spend the day with you.”

Peter unbuttoned the expensive shirt Tony was wearing and opened it, sliding it to his shoulders and baring his chest.

“I like that idea, daddy.”

He leaned over and pressed a kiss against Tony’s collarbone, and then licked a wet trail along his jaw.

The billionaire growled, pleased, and tilted his head to the side to give him better access to his neck.

Tony pulled the sweatshirt over Peter’s head, and could feel himself starting to respond to the boy’s attentions. He was a little surprised, then, that Peter simply leaned against his now bare chest, his cheek on his shoulder but his mouth still leaving wet kisses against his skin as his arms went around him.

“Something new, honey?”

Peter nodded.

“I like the taste of you.”

“No marks, though… okay?”

“Not _here_ ,” Peter agreed, his tongue still working Tony’s jaw.

His hand, however, was making its way lower, once more, and Tony groaned in pleasure when Peter worked his belt and then started to reach for the button.

“What are you planning, beautiful boy?” he asked, giving himself over to whatever Peter wanted to do.

“I’m just going to taste you, daddy,” he whispered. “Everywhere.” He pulled back, his hand stilling on Tony’s zipper. “You’re not too tired?”

The older man chuckled and shook his head.

“I think I’ll be alright.”

"And then we can cuddle..."


	84. 84

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of oral smut :)

It only took Tony a short time to realize that Peter hadn’t been exaggerating when he said that he wanted to taste him. When the boy had his pants open, he pulled Tony’s cock out and slid off his lap and in between his knees on the floor and was playing with him. He wasn’t actively sucking, trying to make him climax; it was more like the time in Tony’s workroom when he’d spent so much time practicing on him.

Stark sighed in pleasure, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, his fingers sliding through Peter’s hair.

“That feels good, honey.”

Peter was in the process of trying to put Tony’s cock in his throat, so he didn’t respond with anything other than a tightening of the grip he had on the older man’s thigh. A moment later he was gagging and still pushing his head down onto Tony’s lap, stubbornly, trying to force it. Tony used the hand in his hair to pull him off his cock and he opened his eyes as he did. The boy gagged and looked up at him, eyes bright with tears.

“Don’t you _dare_ hurt yourself, Peter,” Tony told him, tenderly. “There’s no hurry. Understand?”

“But I want to _do_ it.”

Tony snorted, understanding completely. That was the problem with the boy being as intelligent and scientific as he was. He’d found his problem and needed to solve it. To _accomplish_ it. Tony could understand, of _course_ , but he wasn’t going to allow his baby to do anything that might hurt himself.

“You will. Just not right away.”

“But-“

“Don’t argue with me, baby,” Tony said, sternly. “Who’s in _charge_?”

“You.”

The billionaire smile, his fingers going from Peter’s hair to palm his cheek.

“Who _loves_ you?”

Peter blushed, happily.

“You do, daddy.”

“Then do what I tell you. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Now, go ahead and keep playing with me. But if I hear you gag, then you’re done. _Understand_?”

His lower lip came out, then, in an adorable pout, but Tony didn’t allow his expression to show how charmed he was by his baby, just then. There was a time to indulge, and a time to protect him from himself. This definitely qualified.

“Yes, daddy…”

Now Tony allowed a smile, and he caressed Peter’s cheek.

“Such a pretty boy. So _eager_ , aren’t you, honey?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll figure it out. There’s no hurry.”

Peter bent his head back to his task, licking his tongue along Tony’s shaft and playing with him, intimately. Tony purred encouragement, heaping tender praises on the boy, who squirmed with each word, clearly becoming aroused, himself. The billionaire decided to tease, just a little, and reached for Peter’s hands, holding them in his own and keeping the boy from possibly reaching between his legs to stroke his own cock.

It didn’t take Peter long to figure out what Tony was doing. The first time he started to move his hand, Tony tightened his grip and Peter whimpered. He distracted himself with his mouth on Tony, and the older man crooned in approval.

“So good, baby You’re so perfect.”

Peter tried to move the other hand, with the same lack of success. True, he could force the issue and free himself, but Tony was quietly telling him what he wanted, and Peter wasn’t willing to go against his wishes. He whined into the head of Tony’s cock, and Tony moaned in pleasure at the sensation.

“So good…” he repeated.

Making Peter squirm was exciting Tony. His cock, which had handled the gentle ministrations of the boy fairly easily in his lab, while he’d been distracted by his research, was throbbing and eager by then, and Tony had put himself in a corner. With his hands holding Peter’s, he couldn’t guide the boy’s head where he wanted him. He chuckled and Peter looked up, brown eyes questioning as he slid his tongue along the head of the billionaire’s cock, licking the precum that was dribbling copiously from the tip.

“Finish me, honey,” Tony crooned, smiling down at him. “Pease…”

Peter turned his attention to Tony’s cock, completely, now. He licked him, cleaning the precum from him and then pulled the throbbing rod of flesh into his mouth, taking as much as he could without taking too much – although an irreverent part of his mind said chances were Tony wouldn’t actually stop him if he gagged. He didn’t want to chance it.

Head bobbing as he sucked him, tongue flattening to tease the surface, Peter felt Tony’s hips hitching in time with his mouth, now. Cheeks sucking in each time he pulled back he felt Tony’s climax hit in the way his cock tensed for just a moment – right as the older man groaned and jerked, his cock releasing with a violent twitch that almost dislodged the boy, who clamped his mouth around him and sucked him down.

Tony released his hands to palm Peter’s cheeks, watching as the boy swallowed him.

“Yes, sweetheart… so good, baby. My perfect angel. So amazing.”

He was still twitching when he pulled Peter upright, bringing him to his feet. The swelling in his jeans was tell-tale, and he undid them and pulled them down almost frantically as Peter’s hands found Tony’s shoulders for support.

“Please, daddy,” the boy whispered, watching as Tony freed his swollen cock from his boxers and engulfed him in his mouth, having no trouble taking Peter’s length all the way inside him.

Peter didn’t last long He moaned and climaxed within minutes, driven almost to desperation by Tony’s earlier teasing. His hips thrust his cock into Tony’s mouth, and he could have wept with the pleasure that was coursing through him.

“Yes, daddy… yes…”

Tony clutched his hips, holding him as he came down from his orgasm, and then cleaned his cock of anything that might have escaped his eager tongue. Then he pulled away, and smiled up at Peter while he pulled the boy’s jeans back up and buttoned them, tucking Peter’s still twitching cock into his boxers, again.

“That was so good, honey.”

“Yeah.”

He helped Tony get himself back into his pants, as well, and then reclaimed his rightful – and almost natural – spot on his lap, once more. Tony crooned as he wrapped his arms around Peter, who rested his cheek back against the man’s bare chest.

“Did you enjoy it, my sweet?”

“Yes.”

“Even when I held you?”

“It was exciting.”

“We’ll try it again, sometime.” He kissed Peter’s temple, his hand brushing against the boy’s cheek. “Not tonight, though.”

“Okay.” Peter kissed his collarbone. “I still get to practice on you, though… right, daddy?”

“As long as you’re more careful than you were. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. We _talked_ about that, remember?”

“I want to make you _happy_.”

Tony chuckled, and squeezed him, tightly, knowing that he couldn’t hurt him by doing it.

“You do make me happy, honey. Happier than I can ever remember being.”

Certainly more _fulfilled_.

Which was saying something coming from a man who had saved the Earth.

“Yeah?”

“Absofuckinglutely.” He kissed his cheek, again, “Let me catch my breath, and then we’ll go start dinner.”


	85. 85

Tony felt something nudge the small of his back, waking him up from a sound sleep. He smirked, feeling a little smug, because _this_ time he’d been careful to make sure that his blankets were firmly in place before falling asleep. Bob wasn’t going to get a second chance to emasculate him with that cold nose in tender places. The billionaire tightened his grip on the warm body next to him, thinking they they’d have to get up, soon, but he’d bought himself a few more minutes, anyway, and he heard a satisfied mumbling sound from Peter as he felt the boy snuggle a little closer, nose tucked right against his collarbone.

He wasn’t working today; they could sleep in. Maybe he had time to play with Peter, a little. See if he could get those soft eyes fired with desire. That would be a satisfying way to wake up.

The soft grunt behind him was the only warning that they were given. A moment later the big dog jumped up onto the bed, walked casually over Tony’s startled form and maneuvered himself in between the two before nudging Tony with that big, bulky, head of his.

“Peter…”

“Hmmm…?”

“Your dog wants out.”

The boy chuckled, and reached up to pet Bob’s side. _Way_ up.

“Think so?”

He rolled out of bed with difficulty, since the blankets were pinned under the dog’s paws and Tony was much more awake by the time the boy had found jeans, a sweatshirt and shoes and called the mastiff to the elevator to be harnessed for a morning walk. Tony walked out wearing pajama bottoms just as the boy was snapping the leash on.

“Breakfast?”

Peter nodded and the elevator door opened, the mismatched pair left the apartment and Tony went to make coffee.

>>><<>> 

Tony was at the table, still under dressed and enjoying his first cup of coffee while looking through the news on his tablet when they returned. When Bob was released from the harness and leash, he ambled over to Tony and stuck his nose into his lap, cheerfully demanding attention while Peter went to shower and get ready for his day.

Tony set his coffee down, rather than spill it, and took the big head in both hands, looking down at the dog with a smile.

“Think you’re hot shit, huh, waking us up and having your way?” he asked, rhetorically. It was pretty clear that the dog thought exactly that. “Well, you’re _big_ … and you’re _cute_ … but keep in mind who the _daddy_ is around here, got that, mister?”

Bob’s tail wagged, reacting to the loving tone of voice rather than the words – which were almost certainly lost on him. Tony leaned over and planted a kiss between those intelligent brown eyes – maybe he just had a thing for _brown eyes_? – and slapped the dog’s side before getting up to make sure the automatic feeder was full, and the water in the dog's bowl was fresh.

When Peter came out of his room, showered and dressed, Tony was at the island cooking bacon and Bob was watching, hopefully.

“What do you want to do, today?” the billionaire asked when Peter seated himself on a stool and watched, too.

“Go for a walk?”

“You and me and _cockblock_ , here?”

The boy grinned and Tony handed him a piece of bacon that had cooled enough to be safely handled.

“Yeah. If you want, that is?”

“We’ve got the day to do whatever we want,” he assured the boy, tossing a piece of bacon at the dog, who caught it, easily. “I want to get him a tag with his name and a phone number – or two – on it, in case he gets lost, or something.”

“Okay.”

“And a box for his stuff.” They both looked over at the cardboard box next to the huge bed. “It looks like he’s a transient. We’ll get something more stylish.”

“Going to let FRIDAY pick it out?”

“Smart ass. Just for _that_ , your pancakes aren’t going to be shaped like cute little animals.”

The boy smiled, and then his eyes grew large, and impossibly adorable.

“ _Please_ , daddy?”

Tony smiled, too, knowing the boy was playing with him but well aware that even if he’d been serious, he was defenseless against the eyes and the _daddy_ uttered so deliciously.

“If that’s what my baby wants… Get the eggs and the milk out of the fridge. I’ll teach you how to make pancakes.”

“You open the _box_.”

Now the billionaire rolled his eyes.

“If you want _average_ pancakes, you open the box and add water. You want the good stuff, you make them from scratch.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

>>><><>>> 

Tony Stark was used to being looked at. To seeing someone glance his way and maybe do a double-take and then stare. He was rich. He was famous. He knew he was good-looking. And, oh, yeah, he was _Ironman_. Of course they were going to look at him. He liked that. It stoked his ego in ways that nothing else really could.

Out with Peter and Bob that day, though, he was well aware that the double-takes and second glances they were receiving had very little to do with how good he looked in the jeans and sweatshirt that he was wearing, and almost everything to do with the slight boy and the massive dog that was with him. After breakfast, they loaded Bob into the car, and drove to the pet store, first. The sign said as long as he was leashed, he was welcomed inside, so they roamed the aisles of the store, looking for toys, a better looking box to put them in and maybe some kind of chew toys, although they’d been assured that he was probably beyond the chewing everything up around him stage.

People stopped them, even in the pet store. They wanted to pet him, and ask about him and even take pictures with him. Tony tolerated it – he was used to the interruptions, but it didn’t make it less annoying really – but Peter was having _fun_ , letting little kids touch the dog that was taller than they were, sometimes, and answering the questions that were asked about him. It took three times longer to buy what they needed – including having a tag made for his collar – but Tony didn’t mind since Peter was having a good time.

“You’re carrying that thing up to the apartment,” he told the boy as they walked out of the pet store, finally. “I don’t want people to think we murdered someone and are toting him around, piece by piece.”

Peter nodded, looking at the incredibly large chew bone he was holding. Bob had slowed when they went by a display of chew sticks and bones for large dogs and had simply leaned down and picked up the largest one, taking it without so much as a by your leave. Peter had smiled up at Tony, who had simply shrugged. It was probably a mastodon legbone, but if it kept his shoes safe from being chewed on if he forgot and left them on the floor, then so be it.

“Yeah. I will.”

He was good for the heavy lifting, anyway, since he was a lot stronger.

When they reached the apartment, though, they left everything in the car and Tony took his young lover and their new dog out for a walk on the city sidewalk. Peter knew his way around the area, by now, and as they walked he pointed out different places that he’d gone – with Monica, or with Bob. They took a few selfies and sent them to Natasha, Rhodey and Steve, letting them know what they were up to, and as before at the pet store, found themselves interrupted a few times by people who wanted to discuss the dog.

They stopped for lunch at the small café, making sure to put Bob against the wall when they seated themselves at the tables outside to keep from blocking the sidewalk, and then wandered their way home. Tony situated the toybox for the dog, and Peter brought everything up from the car. Then, with Bob in his bed, contentedly gnawing on his mastodon leg, Tony settled on the couch and Peter climbed into his lap, more than ready to cuddle.

“I had a good day, daddy,” he murmured, his head coming to rest on Tony’s shoulder.

“Yeah? Me, too, honey.” He put his arms around the boy, feeling a wave of contentment that he never would have thought possible. Here he was, sitting in his apartment, hanging out. With a beautiful lover – and a dog. Not in his workshop, poring over specifications for his new suit, and not building something in the middle of the night. Just sitting. And relaxing. And he knew who he had to thank for that peaceful feeling. “Have I mentioned how lucky I am to have you?” he asked the boy, turning his head and kissing him.

Peter smiled, his eyes soft and just as content as Tony’s.

“No.”

“I am,” Tony assured him. “You’re my everything, beautiful boy. I love you.”


	86. 86

_“Peter!”_

The boy smiled, even as he turned, recognizing the voice. Monica came up to him with Boomer at her side, looking at the dog he was standing beside.

“Hey, Monica.”

“He’s a beauty, honey. Where did you get him?”

“Tony bought him. At a _rescue_. He’s says he’s _mine_ , but usually when there’s poop to clean up, or when he wants out in the morning.”

The older woman chuckled, watching as her dog started sniffing the mastiff, probably shocked to find a dog he had to look up at.

“Is he friendly?”

“Yeah. He’s pretty easygoing. Can I take a picture with you standing between him and Boomer?”

“If I can take one you three, also.”

The boy grinned.

“Deal.”

>>><<<<<>>><>< 

_“Phone call from Tony Stark.”_

Peter smiled, hanging Bob’s leash on its hook next to the harness.

“Connect the call, please.”

_“Peter?”_

“Hey.”

_“Are you home?”_

He hesitated, wondering why Tony would call him at home if he didn’t know he was _there_ – and then realized that he’d called his cell phone and FRIDAY had automatically transferred it to the apartment’s network when it came through. Smart AI. Peter could get used to that, and _was_.

“We just walked in, yeah. Are you having a good day?”

He thought he sounded in a good mood.

_“I am. I see Monica met Bob.”_

Peter had sent him both the photo of Monica, dwarfed between the two large dogs, and then himself in a similar position. He’d sent the same picture to Natasha, and had received a shocked faced emoji in reply.

“Yeah, she was outside when we were. Bob likes her.”

_“It certainly looks that way. Pepper has some papers filled out for you, and a judge lined up to make your emancipation official. Do you feel up to doing that, today?”_

He hesitated, looking at Bob, and feeling nervous, suddenly. But he nodded, even though Tony wasn’t there to see it.

“Yes.”

_“I’m going to have Happy come get you. See if Monica minds Bob-sitting, will you? I’m not ready to trust him alone in the apartment, just yet.”_

“She said she’d be available if we needed someone when she was home. I’ll go ask.”

_“Tell her we’ll take her to lunch the next day she has free from the flower shop.”_

“Okay.”

_“Alright, Happy’s on his way, now. Pepper and I will meet you at the courthouse.”_

“Okay.”

Ten minutes later, Peter was waiting out in front of the apartment building when Happy pulled up.

“Get in, Peter,” the driver requested through the passenger window he rolled down.

There were several other cars waiting to discharge passenger or pick someone up. Peter simply opened the door and got into the front beside Happy.

“Hey, Happy.”

“Where’s Bob?”

“Eating peanut butter cookies with Monica and Boomer.”

“Hope they save some for us. I mean, _you_.” He grinned, giving the boy a broad wink as he pulled out into traffic.

Peter smiled, buckling his seatbelt.

“I’ll see if Tony wants to make some. If he does, then I’ll save you a dozen.”

“You’re a good guy, Peter,” Happy told him with a smirk. “I don’t care what everyone says.”

The boy grinned at that, knowing he was being teased and enjoying the sensation. He fell silent, though, knowing that the driver preferred to be able to concentrate in the busy traffic. One of the reasons he usually kept the partition between the front and the back up when there were passengers.

When he pulled up to the courthouse, though, he smiled and offered Peter his hand, like an adult responding to an adult.

“Good luck.”

Peter nodded, touched, and saw Tony and Pepper standing by the entrance to the courthouse with a woman that he didn’t know.

“Thanks, Happy.”

He got out of the car and went to join them, once more feeling nervous – although he hoped it didn’t show. Pepper and Tony were doing a lot for him, and he didn’t want them to think that he didn’t appreciate it – because he did. So much more than they would even know.

Tony greeted him, and introduced him to the woman, who turned out to be a lawyer. She was a little too formal to actually be called friendly, but she was extremely polite and efficient, and as they walked into the building, and through all the security, she explained the process, and that he’d have to actually speak with the judge who would then approve his emancipation.

“It’s a formality,” the lawyer said. “But _important_. He’s going to be trying to get a feel for you; to see if he thinks you’re mature enough to be responsible for yourself.”

Peter nodded.

“What if he doesn’t think I am?”

“Then he’ll deny your petition and we’ll appeal until we wear him down – or find another judge who will approve it.”

“Don’t worry,” Tony told him, putting a hand on his shoulder – and Peter decided he must not be hiding his nerves, very well, after all. “You’re going to be _fine_. You can do this.”

He nodded, again, and then was quiet, as they walked into a courtroom, but was grateful that Tony kept his hand on his shoulder, because he knew he was shaking.

By the time they called his name and he stood up and stepped forward with the three adults flanking him, Peter’s mouth was dry but he was determined. The judge was a stern man, who was clearly trying to put him at ease, and before he spoke to Peter, he listened to the lawyer tell him about Peter’s history – losing his folks, and then, more recently May and Ben – and then the reasoning behind the petition. The judge asked about school, and Tony spoke up in his steady, confident voice and mannerism, telling the judge that he and the other Avengers would take care of homeschooling Peter.

There was a murmur from the crowd behind them at that, causing the judge to scowl at the entire room until the buzz died down, and Peter felt a bit of a thrill at the thought of having so much collective knowledge around him. The judge asked about income, and Peter’s safety and where he would live. Pepper spoke, then, confirming that he had already been set up as a part-time lab assistant with a highly regarded scientist – a fully compensated position. Tony then added that Peter would be living with him, as he had been for the past 6 weeks and that he would continue to guarantee his stable environment.

Then the judge turned his questions to Peter, asking him many questions about his time after losing May and Ben and how he’d survived and what he’d felt. Then he asked if he liked living with Tony, and Peter had answered honestly that he did.

The judge was silent for a long time, scrutinizing Peter, who couldn’t help but tremble.

“Petition is approved,” the judge finally said. “Bring me the papers.”

Tony smiled; his hand going to Peter’s shoulder while they watched the judge sign off on several copies of the petition and then handed them back to one of the people near his bench. The person then handed a couple of copies to the lawyer standing with Pepper and Tony, and they left the courtroom.

“That’s it?” Peter asked, uncertainly.

Pepper smiled; thinking that he was adorable.

“That’s it. We’ll finish the paperwork, but you’re officially no longer a ward of the state in any form. Congratulations.”

He hugged her, impulsively, and she chuckled and hugged him, back, looking at Tony for a little help. He just shrugged, smiling and giving her his famous _what can you do_ look.

“Thanks,” Peter said, letting her go, with a slightly abashed expression. “Really.”

“You’re welcome. Now, you’ll report to Bruce at 9 am next Monday morning to start your job. Unless it interferes with your homeschooling assignments.”

“It won’t,” Tony assured her. “We’ll work around Bruce’s schedule.”

“Fine. Find him something other than a t-shirt, too, will you Tony? Jeans are acceptable, but he has to look sharp in his new lab coat.”

“I’ll take care of it.” The limo pulled up in front of the courthouse, and Tony looked at the two women. “Need a ride?”

“No. I’m going to ride back with Shelly and finish out my day. Thank you, though.”

The two women left, and Tony ushered Peter to the car, where Happy was holding the back door and ignoring the annoyed honks of the people waiting behind him.

“How did it go?”

“Exactly as it was supposed to,” Stark said, pushing Peter into the car. “We’ll celebrate, later.”

“Where to?”

“Home. Thanks.”

The door closed behind them, and Tony looked at Peter and patted his lap in invitation. Which the boy accepted without hesitation. He climbed into the billionaire’s lap, straddling him and holding him, his cheek going to Tony’s shoulder and his eyes closing as Tony put his arms around him.

“That was scary…” Peter murmured.

Tony tightened his hold and turned his head to kiss him.

“Why, honey? You did great. You were perfect.”

“I was afraid I’d say something wrong,” the boy said. He hesitated, still shaking a little. “And then I was afraid I’d say something _right_ , and it would go through.”

Tony nodded. It was a young age to be – _technically_ – responsible for yourself. God knew at sixteen, Tony probably hadn’t been mature enough to have attempted it.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he crooned. “You’re emancipated, but that doesn’t mean you’re on your own. Daddy’s here for you.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.” He kissed him, again, and stroked his hair, to calm him. “You’re so perfect. So wonderful.”

Peter shivered, again, but this time in response to the praise and to Tony, and he shifted enough to bury his face against his chest.

“Daddy…”

“Yeah, honey. We’ll go home, collect our dog and then watch a movie or something and have a quiet night. Okay?”

“Sounds good.”


	87. 87

They stopped by Monica’s to pick up Bob, and ended up staying for a while. The old woman knew Peter’s history, by then; he was open and once more finding the enjoyment of talking to people after months of isolation, and she was an amazing listener. She asked how it had gone and while Tony found himself overrun by Bob and Boomer – who both seemed to want his attention at the same time – he told her what had happened at the courthouse.

She was pleased by the resolution – and by Peter’s choices – and hugged the boy as cheerfully as if he were her own, congratulating him. Then she’d sent them on home with their dog, and a reminder that if they needed a dog-sitter in the future or someone to keep Peter company, that she could always make herself available if given a little notice.

“I _like_ her,” Tony said as they went to the lobby and then caught the penthouse elevator.

“Me, too. She told me today that her son’s daughter is a big Avengers fan. Maybe you could take a picture with her, or something, if they’re over some day?”

“I’d be willing to do that.”

As good as the woman was with Peter ( _and_ Bob) the billionaire would even put on the suit and take photos with the entire family.

Peter was smiling as they walked into the apartment and took Bob’s harness off.

“What do you want to do tonight, honey?” Tony asked him. “Something low-key.”

He wanted to celebrate, but he didn't want to go out. What a change from the man he usually was! Staying home instead of out drinking and carousing? What was getting into him? He was almost domesticated.

“Can we bake cookies?”

“We _can_.” He knew it was a matter of personal pride that Peter manage to bake some without destroying the kitchen, and it was hardly an overtaxing chore, after all. Besides, he knew Peter had promised some to Happy. “Preference?”

“Chocolate chip.”

Bob couldn’t have any, but he’d been given some peanut butter ones at Monica’s and the last thing they needed was for the big dog to become too pampered and get fat. Big dogs weren’t the longest-lived anyway (Tony had researched _that_ , too) so they were going to make sure to keep Bob as healthy as they could.

So Tony gave Peter a list of things to get out of the cupboard and the fridge while he went and changed out of his suit, and when he returned the two of them spent some time together putting together cookie dough (Peter’s big, hopeful, eyes netted him the beaters, this time) and then they cuddled on the couch while they waited for the dough to settle and for dinner time. Peter took his spot in Tony’s lap and rested his cheek against his shoulder.

“When do we start school, professor?” he asked.

It was a turn on, and Tony smiled, because he honestly didn’t know if Peter had any idea what the words would do to him – or if he’d phrased it that way on purpose. It was hard to tell sometimes. He turned his head to look at the boy; those intelligent, brown eyes watching him, still with that hint of sorrow, but also with love and contentment shining at him.

“I’ve looked up the curriculum, and had FRIDAY download it all. We’ll need to place where you’re at, so far, and then we’ll plan accordingly. I was thinking we could do that over the weekend, and then be ready Monday. School in the mornings, either at the tower in my office or here at home, and then a couple of days a week you’ll work with Bruce – at the tower, or at the compound.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to be getting paid to work with him.”

“It was that, or make you an intern. I, personally, don’t _want_ an intern, and I’m not going to let anyone else have you in that kind of role. Bruce can use the help, and you get along with him – and you know his secret, which doesn’t mean you need to worry about him going green on you, or anything. But if something came up – somehow – you’d know to get one of us.”

“Can you contain him in your Ironman suit when that happens?”

“As well as anyone. What we’d do is get Natasha to bring him down, really. They have a _thing_ – even though they don’t bandy it about.”

The boy nodded, his hand running idly under the t-shirt Tony was wearing.

“She knows about you and me.”

“Yeah? How do you know?”

“She _told_ me. Asked if you were making me do anything – I think she just wanted to make sure I was okay.”

Tony smiled, his lips brushing Peter’s forehead.

“What did you tell her?” he asked, curiously.

“That I’m stronger than you, and you couldn’t really _force_ me to do anything.”

“True.”

“But I’d _do_ anything,” Peter added. “You know that, right? Because I _want_ to. For my daddy.”

“Yeah, honey,” he crooned, feeling his cock twitch at the thought. He couldn’t help it. “I know you would.” He sifted his fingers through the boy’s hair, smiling at him. Tony was tempted to undress him and bring him right back into his lap and have the boy ride him, but they had time for that, later. He hated waiting, but he _could_. “Are you ready to eat?”

“I could.”

“Why don’t you take Bob out, and I’ll start dinner?”

“Alright.”

He brushed his lips against Tony’s neck and pulled his hand out from under the t-shirt, and then slid out of his lap with a graceful motion. Tony stayed on the sofa, watching as the boy called Bob over to the elevator and got him into his harness and left. Then he got up and turned the oven on to start the cookies before opening the fridge.

It was a celebration night, so they’d have something a little more extravagant than burgers.

>>>><<<>>< 

Peter and Bob had a routine down, even after just a couple of days. Bob was easy to walk; he never wanted to go anywhere badly enough that he would tug, so they tended to meander their way around the block at an easy pace while the mastiff looked for just the right place to pee. And there were _many_. The boy kept the dog on his right side, to allow people coming toward him to stay to _their_ right without making them have to pass Bob, just him. _Monica_ had taught him that, because Boomer made a lot of people nervous and the street was too busy to have someone just crossing it to avoid the dog.

He was somewhat distracted as they walked, thinking about the day, and what all had happened – and all that it meant to him. If someone had told him three months ago that he’d be safe and loved – and even that he’d have a dog – he would have laughed at them. Or maybe cried because that was something that he’d lost and didn’t think would have, again. But here he was. And with Tony Stark, no less! Hanging out with the Avengers and he was going to be working with Bruce Banner – part time.

It was unbelievable.

And now, according to Pepper and the lawyer, he was free to not have to worry about the state being able to make him go to a home. He’d honestly expected something bad to happen in the time leading up to all of it. He had been certain that once the people in charge knew about him, they’d have figured out a way to take him away from the happiness that seemed so fragile to him. Tony was a rock – he was Ironman, after all, and filled with confidence, and competence, and self-awareness, but Peter was well aware that he had no such enduring qualities.

Life had beat him down too many times for him to even be optimistic, really. He’d lost everything, once. Then had lost it again, when May and Ben died, and he’d really expected there to be a third time, since didn’t everyone say that bad things came in threes? But Tony had been able to overcome that for Peter. He’d made it. The state couldn’t take him away, now, and he was going to be able to finish school and start moving forward, again. It was enough to make him smile, even as he idly watched Bob sniffing a tree.

The sound of screeching brakes and then the clash of metal on metal from down the block drew him from his reverie and he and Bob both turned to look – along with the half dozen other people on the street. A sudden fireball lit up the late afternoon sky and Peter heard screams and shouts. He ran toward the noise, instinctively wanting to help, with Bob running beside him and clearing people out of the way before they became an obstacle by sheer intimidation factor alone/ Then he pulled up short when they came around the block.

The taxi was on its side – on fire. It had hit another car, and had then slammed into a fire hydrant – which hadn’t exploded into a fountain of water like they always seemed to in the movies. There were screams coming from the taxi, and he could see two men, frantically beating on all the windows, but the heat from the flames was keeping anyone from being able to try to help.

Peter didn’t even hesitate.

“Hold him!” he pressed Bob’s leash into the hands of a stranger, and ran forward, toward the taxi.

He put his hood up to protect his face – the heat was incredible, and his ears were hot – and pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands as he tried the door, seeing the men inside pounding on it, trying to get free. The flames were everywhere, now, spreading quickly, and the smoke was intense. The door was jammed from the wreck, and he couldn’t get a hold of anything to even allow his strength to give him the leverage to open it, and Peter coughed, knowing he didn’t have a lot of time to start trying the others.

“Watch out!” he yelled, warning them, even as he used his elbow to break the glass over the door. With the window smashed, he was able to latch his hands onto the metal and gave a desperate jerk, which did the trick.

Peter stumbled backward when the door gave, and one man scampered out of the taxi, immediately, running. The other, bloodier and more frozen in shock, was a little slower, but Peter wasn’t an aspiring superhero for nothing. He simply grabbed him by the jacket and hauled him out of the backseat with a fearful cry as the rear of the car gave a muffled pop and a small explosion rocked both of them to their knees.

He thought maybe that was gas tank going up, and a part of his mind was surprised that the explosion hadn’t been larger and more violent. Then he felt someone grab him and haul him to his feet. He had just enough time to register that it was a police officer tossing him over his shoulder and running, when a much larger explosion engulfed the car with a deafening roar, and Peter and the police officer went flying, crashing to the street with a horrific force that the boy didn’t even feel.

Everything had already gone dark.


	88. 88

“FRIDAY? Any sign of Peter, yet?”

_“Nope. No activity in the parking garage.”_

He frowned, thinking it was taking a little longer than usual for the walk. Of course, Bob was pretty much the one that controlled the pace and the amount of time the walk would take. Maybe the dog had to go more than once.

“Let me know.”

_“I will. There is police band discussions of a car accident located just down the block. The ensuing distraction could be what’s holding him up.”_

“Yeah?” Tony moved to the balcony and looked down onto the street below, but didn’t see anything. Wrong angle, he supposed. “Keep me-“

_“Incoming call from Allen Vedimar.”_

“Who?”

A display in the kitchen turned on as the AI sought information on the person on the other end of the phone call. Tony didn’t recognize the man in the photo – it was a driver’s license photo and not a very good one.

“What number is he calling?”

Any calls to Tony were caught by FRIDAY. Calls to the public lines were routed to an answering service, saving him from having to deal with the few who had access to his public lines.

_“Your private cell.”_

Even less people had that number. He knew them all – and Allen Vedimar was not one of them.

The display showed the man’s personal information, and Tony saw that he was a police officer. Still wondering how he’d gotten the number, he shrugged.

“Connect the call. Hello?”

_“Yeah. Is this Tony Stark?”_

“In the flesh. So to speak. You are?”

_“Officer Allen Vedimar, Mr. Stark. NYPD. Do you know a kid who owns a big buff-colored dog?”_

“What? Peter? What happened?”

_“Where are you?”_

“In my apartment. Where are you?”

The man gave a street, and Tony realized it was the same block.

_“Peter? Is that the kid’s name?”_

Tony frowned, noticing that the boy had set his wallet on the coffee table when he’d climbed into the billionaire’s lap. He didn’t like it digging into his hip when cuddling. Something Tony agreed with.

“Yes. Where is he? Is he alright?”

_“There’s been an accident. Can you come to us?”_

“I’m on my way.”

He turned off the oven and grabbed his jacket, heading for the elevator.

>>><><>>>> 

There was a lot of white smoke and a large crowd. Tony pushed his way through the people gathering around and broke into a scene of mildly controlled chaos. Three ambulances, two fire trucks and several police cruisers were blocking the road around a badly burned taxi and another car that had extensive damages to the rear.

On the sidewalk, there were EMTs and police officers everywhere, but Tony noticed Bob, immediately, and hurried over, breaking through yet another crowd (this one police and firemen) to find Peter sitting on the curb, looking beat up and somewhat charred with Bob hovering right behind him – much to the discomfort of some of the medics – and holding an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Beside him was an equally battered-looking police office, and on wheeled gurneys were two others, as well as a couple of people standing to the side being checked out.

“Peter?”

“Mr. Stark.” He was intercepted by a thin guy, not much larger than Peter, wearing a police uniform. “Officer Vedimar. I’m the one that called you.”

“Yeah. What _happened_?” Tony crouched down in front of the boy, who had a scrap on his cheek – marring that perfect porcelain skin – and a cut above his eye. They had his sweatshirt off and two medics were asking him questions and checking his vitals while a third was holding a blanket over Peter’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Peter nodded, pulling the mask from his face and coughing.

“Yeah.”

The medic put it back in place, and Bob whined and leaned over, licking Peter’s neck, worriedly, and ignoring the men who were trying to keep him away.

“He freed a couple of people trapped in a burning car, Mr. Stark,” the officer told Tony, looking and sounding impressed. “Damn near got himself blown up doing it.”

“Is he alright?” Tony asked the medics.

“Some cuts and scrapes – his right hand has a pretty deep gash on it and a burn. We’d like to take him in to get looked at.”

Peter pulled the mask away, again, looking scared, and Tony had a feeling it was a throwback to when he needed to keep his identity a secret so no one would know he was Spiderman, or homeless. At the moment, they didn’t need to worry about the Spiderman thing – unless he’d done something out of the ordinary when freeing the trapped people – and he certainly wasn’t homeless, anymore.

“I’m okay.”

The billionaire smiled at him, trying to convey just how proud of him that he was. How much he loved him. How brave he could be.

“Let’s have you checked out, alright?”

“No. _Really_ … I’m okay.”

The coughing fit that followed might have proved otherwise, and the medic pushed the oxygen mask back onto his face.

“Do what you’re told,” Tony said, reaching for, and taking, Peter’s hand and squeezing it, briefly. “You’re going to be fine.”

He nodded, tears welling in his eyes and his free hand going to Bob for the support he needed that Tony couldn’t give him, publicly. The mastiff whined, again, and nearly knocked Peter’s mask off when he snuffled his nose against the boy's face.

“We’ll take him to Harborview,” the medic told Tony. “You can ride with us.”

“Yeah.” He looked at Vedimar. “I need you to have someone take the dog. The woman who lives below me, Monica Hansen, can watch him. If, for some reason she isn’t there, call me and I’ll have someone else come get him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony pulled Bob away from Peter while the medics got him onto a gurney and loaded him into the ambulance. The mastiff wasn’t very cooperative when it was apparent that he wasn’t invited into the vehicle as well, and Tony handed his leash to a fireman, assuming correctly that the slight police officer probably didn’t have the muscle to keep the dog from jumping into the ambulance behind him.

>>><<><>>> 

The woman manning the desk at the emergency room stared when Captain America walked into the lobby, with Black Widow beside him. Neither were actually dressed in the outfits that they normally wore, but she didn’t need them to recognize them. She had two teenaged sons who constantly told her everything that she could ever need to know about the Avengers. Those two in particular. Captain America (and Ironman, she supposed) because they were exciting heroes, and Black Widow because… well, because her sons were teenaged boys – and looking at her close up, she could understand, better.

The woman was beautiful.

“We’re looking for someone who was brought in about an hour ago,” Romanoff said. “Peter Parker?”

“He’d be with Tony Stark,” Steve added.

She didn’t need to look. Tony Stark was back there. She knew the exam room number they’d put the boy in. It was a private one normally used for celebrities and public officials to afford them some privacy.

“Number 12,” she said, hitting the button that would allow them back into the emergency exam areas.

“Thank you.”

She blushed when Rogers smiled at him, and rolled her eyes for acting like a giddy schoolgirl. He was cute, though, she had to admit as she watched them walk away.

They found the room easily enough, and knocked lightly before letting themselves in. Peter was in the bed, bundled with a stack of blankets, while Tony was seated in a chair beside the bed, his phone out. The billionaire looked over at them as they walked in and then glanced at Peter, who had fallen asleep soon after they’d brought him back from having x-rays.

“How is he?” Natasha asked, softly, sitting herself on the edge of the bed the boy was in and brushing her fingers lightly against his cheek – careful to avoid the scraped area.

“No broken bones, no concussion. His right hand is burned, and he cut it on some broken glass, but they said it’ll be fine. Bumps, bruises, scrapes. Beat up, nothing more serious. They’re running one more test and then they’ll let me take him home.”

“Where’s Bob?”

“Monica has him.”

Natasha smiled when she realized that Peter was waking up, his eyes opening – either at the sound of their conversation, or because she woke him when she’d seated herself on his bed.

“Hey, Natasha.”

“Hi, Peter. How do you feel?”

“I’m cold.”

Tony rolled his eyes, gesturing at the pile of blankets.

“He’s not _cold_. He just _thinks_ he is.”

“We stopped by your place,” Steve told him. “Picked up your car, and got some clothes for him.”

“Thank you.”

“We also tried the cookie dough in the fridge.”

Stark shook his head.

“If you get salmonella don’t come crying to me.”

Steve smiled.

“Need anything else?”

“No. We’re not going to come to the compound this weekend. I think we’ll just laze around, and give Peter a chance to heal up.”

“You realize if he’s too sore to, you’re going to have to walk the dog?” Romanoff asked, also smiling.

“Don’t remind me.”


	89. 89

“ _Easy_ …”

“I’m okay.”

“Let me get the door for you, honey.”

Peter waited for Tony to unbuckle his seatbelt and then watched as he got out of the car, came around and opened his door for him. Which was helpful, really, since they’d bandaged his right hand to protect the neatly stitched gash and the burns and he was cradling it, protectively, against his stomach.

“Thank you.”

Tony helped him ease out of the car, and he appreciated that, too. He was pretty sore. Not _I fell off a_ _building_ sore, but still achy, and Tony was forced to slow his normal pace to allow Peter to keep up as they walked to the elevator to the apartment.

“Go on and get to the apartment,” he told the boy, hitting the call button. “I’ll go get Bob from Monica and be right there.”

It was a measure of just how sore he was that Peter didn’t argue. He just nodded and did as he was told. The elevator opened with the usual chime and the boy walked out, moving only as far as the sofa, where he sat down with a tired sigh and leaned back into the sofa, closing his eyes and almost immediately dozing off.

Tony had called Monica to check on things, and to let her know that they weren’t going to admit Peter, but that they would be a little late, coming home, and asking her when would be too late to bother her to pick up Bob. She’d told him to come get the dog anytime and to give Peter a kiss for her.

“Hey…”

He opened his eyes and found two pairs of brown eyes watching him. Bob stuck his nose in Peter’s face and made a whuffling noise when the boy opened his eyes, and Tony pushed the big head away, gently, and gestured for him to go to his bed – which he did.

“He wasn’t bothering me,” Peter assured the older man.

“I know, honey,” Tony said. “But if he licks your face, and I kiss that spot, that’s pretty much me kissing him with tongue – and I can’t handle that thought, right now.”

That made Peter smile.

“Monica was still awake?”

“She was. I told her what happened, but she’d already seen it on the news.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She made a casserole for us, too, so I want you to eat something, okay?”

“Yes.”

He was hungry, and the painkiller that they’d given him for his hand was making him feel a little sick. He started to get up, but Tony’s hand against his chest held him in place.

“I’ll bring it to you.”

“Thank you.”

Tony had to help him eat. Peter was right-handed, and bandaged as it was, the hand was worthless, just then. He was extremely awkward holding a fork with his left. Rather than allow him to make a huge mess of himself – which he’d have to clean up – he simply fed Peter himself, smiling each time the boy rolled his eyes at the need.

It didn’t help the absurdity that Tony made choo choo noises or pretended the forkful of noodles was an airplane as he was bringing it up to Peter’s lips.

“Eat up for daddy…” the billionaire said, lovingly.

“You’re having way too much fun with this,” the boy chided.

“Maybe.” He was just happy that it hadn’t been any worse. Peter was sore – and would be a few days – and his hand was going to be a few days beyond that, but he wasn’t badly injured considering what had happened. “Have I told you how proud I am of you?”

“No.”

“I am. Natasha was right, I think. You’re just an Avenger _born_.”

Which had made Peter squirm in embarrassed pleasure.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But we need to work on your self-preservation skills."

When Tony finished eating, the boy climbed into his lap without asking, tucking his injured hand between them, protectively, and burying his face against his neck.

“Are you working tomorrow, daddy?”

“No. I’m going to take the rest of the week off. Monica offered to stay with you if you needed someone, but I can work on the research I’m doing at the tower from here, instead, and I’ll be here in case you need something.”

Peter didn’t argue. At the moment, he was sore and wanted to be babied.

“We didn’t get to celebrate.”

Tony turned his head and kissed him.

“We will, later. Let’s get you to bed.”

It was a little bit of a chore to brush his teeth left-handed, but he wasn’t going to let Tony help him with that, too. There were limits, after all. He made a bit of a mess of himself, but a wet towel fixed that, and getting undressed one-handed was a bit awkward, too. Tony smiled when he went into the guest room – now officially Peter’s room – and found the boy tangled with his pants around his ankles and the sweatshirt he was wearing completely off, except the sleeve that was stuck on the heavy bandages on his hand.

“Problem, honey?”

If he didn’t hurt, he’d have just flopped back on the bed in frustration. As it was, he held himself still while Tony took care of getting him out of his pants and boxers, first, and then untangled the shirts enough to stretch the sleeve of the sweatshirt and free the boy from it. His t-shirt soon followed, and Tony eyed him, critically, once he had him undressed.

Bruises were peppered on his back from scattered pieces of debris hitting him when the taxi had exploded, but his sweatshirt had been heavy enough to keep him from taking the full force of any of it. Scrapes on his face and forehead, and the injured hand.

“You’re a mess, baby.”

“Not as bad as when I was _shot_ ,” Peter pointed out. “At least I can stand up.”

“Well, stand up and go get into _my_ bed.”

The boy chuckled at that, and Tony helped him, even though Peter was right and walking really wasn’t a problem. He was being careful with his injured hand, but that was to be expected. It probably hurt like hell between being cut and being burned like it had been, Tony decided, and he pulled the blankets back and tucked Peter under them, snugly, kissing him before he vanished into his bathroom for a shower and to brush his teeth.

Peter was almost asleep by the time he returned, warm from the shower and a beacon to the boy, who was always cold. As soon as Tony was settled, the boy snuggled sleepily against him, hand tucked between them where it would be safe, and nose right up against the arc reactor.

Tony wrapped his arms around him and cuddled him. _He_ wasn’t sleepy, but he didn’t mind that Peter was. Hospitals were exhausting, and pain medication was designed to make a person sleepy. He slid his hand along Peter’s hip, his palm coming to rest cupping his ass, which fit his hand perfectly.

“That feels good, daddy,” Peter mumbled into his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

The billionaire was tempted – briefly – to make him feel even better, but Peter was tired and would enjoy it more when he wasn’t quite so miserable.

“We’ll make sure you feel good, tomorrow, too, honey.”

“Promise?”

“Yes. Go to sleep, okay?”

He tilted his head and pressed a kiss against the brown curls that always seemed messy, even when they were tamed by a fresh haircut.

“’kay.”


	90. 90

Bob woke them the next morning.

Not surprisingly, he wanted out and wasn’t shy about asking for that. He hopped up on the bed with a surprising amount of grace for such a large dog, and Tony automatically leaned closer to Peter t protect his hand from getting accidentally stepped on.

The boy groaned when he rolled away – also wanting to protect himself – and Tony heard more pain than annoyance in the sound.

“Do you hurt, honey?” he asked, sleepily.

“A little. It’s not too bad. Just my _hand_ , really.”

“I can walk him.”

“He’s _my_ dog,” Peter remind him, sliding under Bob’s belly to sneak close to Tony once more and kiss his bare chest. “I’ll walk him. Go back to sleep.”

Tony made a noise that might have been agreement, but he opened his eyes and watched as Peter rolled out of bed, making sure he didn’t seem to be in too much pain when he oved. He was a little stiff, but when he walked out of the bedroom, there wasn’t any limping – although the billionaire certainly enjoyed the way the boy’s rear swayed just right when he walked.

God he was fucking edible.

He absently rubbed the belly of the dog, who hadn’t left his bed, just yet. Probably waiting to see if Tony was the one walking him, or not. When Peter had slipped into some clothing and shoes, the boy called him to the elevator and the bed lurched a little when the mastiff jumped off.

Tony stretched, reaching for the pillow Peter had been using and cuddling it close, breathing in the boy’s scent. He should get up and make some coffee and start his day, he thought as he heard the elevator ding, and Peter left. Or he could lie in bed and wait for him to get back and join him. They could sleep in.

Or he could spend some time reminding peter that just because he was emancipated, it didn’t mean that Tony was willing to give him up. He was more determined, really, to make sure that Peter had no reason to want to go anywhere further than his bed. He slid his hand along his ribs, stretching, again, and then his hand strayed down to his cock, which wasn’t quite awake, either, but was willing to be convinced.

By the time Peter returned, released Bob from his harness and made sure the food dish was still full, Tony was nicely aroused and ready for some alone time. He watched as the boy entered his room and vanished into the bathroom for a moment before returning.

“Are you sleeping?” he asked, softly.

Tony nodded.

“Yes. Get naked and join me.”

The boy did as he was told, and Tony flinched just a little when his skin came in contact with the hand that had been holding the leash. It was cold.

“Sorry, daddy.”

Tony chuckled, and guided the hand down and pinned it between his thighs to warm it.

“It’s fine, baby. How do you feel?”

“I’m okay.”

“Good.” He reached down between them, and as his fingers found and claimed the shaft of Peter’s penis, Tony realized that he’d injured the wrong hand. Hand jobs were a lot trickier with the off hand, usually. “What do we have here? Why aren’t you hard, yet, honey?”

“It’s _cold_ out.”

“You’re _always_ cold.” Tony kissed him to soften the criticism and ran his thumb along the slit at the top of Peter’s cock, forcing a soft whimper from his lips. “We’ll have to fix that.”

“Yes, daddy.”

The boy rolled onto his back, spreading his legs, slightly, for Tony, who took him up on the silent invitation. The older man pushed their bedding aside, enjoying the view every time, and sat up, moving to the bottom of the bed to place himself between Peter’s knees, spreading him even further and looking down on him.

“You’re so beautiful, honey,” he murmured, softly, kissing the side of Peter’s knee. “So brave, too.”

Peter trembled, watching as Tony made his way up his leg, kissing his inner thigh with each word. The anticipation was almost as enthralling as the actual touch, proven by the fact that the boy was achingly hard by the time Tony’s mouth closed over his cock.

“Daddy… oh, daddy… yes.”

He rested his left hand on Tony’s head, his fingers sifting through his dark hair as he watched his cock vanish over and over into the older man’s mouth and down his throat. The words merely excited Tony, who loved having his baby in his mouth and was always willing to prove it. He licked him, and sucked him, teasing him with his lips and tongue and even his teeth, until Peter was thrusting upward, almost uncontrollably, his entire body tensing, suddenly, as he climaxed with a high-pitch cry for his daddy.

Tony smiled, slurping and guzzling him, his mouth making sure that Peter’s balls were empty before he sat up and reached for the lube from the nightstand.

He kissed Peter, hungrily, and then worked his way down his body; tongue making a trail of heat along his chest, his nipples, then his belly before coming up again and claiming his lips, once more.

“I love you, baby,” he crooned, as he wet his fingers and began playing with Peter, his eyes never leaving the boy’s. “You’re so beautiful. So sexy…” A finger was slid into him, and Tony smiled at the look of bliss on the boy’s face at the contact as he started  preparing him. “You love that, don’t you, honey?”

Peter nodded.

“I love you, daddy.

“Oh, baby…”

He took his time, making sure to give the boy a chance to climax again before he actually covered him, sliding his eager cock into Peter’s willing body and then taking both of them on a ride that ended in the best possible of ways. Tony buried himself in Peter, his entire being focused on the person under him, his arms wrapped around him to bring him even closer to him, to give him as much of him as he could. When he climaxed, he rested his forehead on the boy’s shoulder and allowed Peter to support him while he trembled, and then silently asked to be held, which the boy was more than willing to do.

“You’re so good, daddy,” he whispered, hitching his hips just a bit, and sliding his leg along Tony’s body. “I need my daddy so much.”

Tony chuckled; spent for the moment, at least. He forced himself up enough to brace his weight on his hands instead of on Peter.

“Your daddy needs you, too,” he assured him. “Let’s get up and have some breakfast. Then we’ll see about taking the lovefest out to the living room.”

Peter simply nodded.


	91. 91

“Hey, can I have your autograph?”

Tony rolled his eyes, looking over at Romanoff who was walking up the sidewalk toward him.

“I don’t _do_ autographs.”

She smirked.

“I was talking to the _dog_.”

He shook his head, waiting for Bob to finish marking the tree they were standing by.

“What are you up to?”

“Came by to see how Peter was doing. He said you were out walking Bob, so I had to come get a photo.” She held up her phone and took a quick picture – which she then sent to Peter. “Now I have blackmail material.”

“You want blackmail material? Wait until he takes a shit.”

Romanoff smiled at that.

“How’s Peter doing? Did he sleep alright?”

“Yeah. I fed him a painkiller with his lunch. His hand is bothering him, I can tell. He’s trying not to make a big fuss out of. I think he’s trying to keep me from worrying about it.”

“Which is why _you’re_ walking Bob?”

He shrugged.

“I could use the fresh air, and I’d rather he wasn’t walking this big lug looped out on a pain-killer.”

“He seemed alright.”

“Did you leave him alone?”

“No. Clint and Sam are with him.”

“Where’s Steve?”

“Down with salmonella.”

“What? _Seriously_?”

She smirked.

“Of course not. Jesus, Tony, you’re too smart to be that gullible. He and Bruce went to get steaks and hotdogs.”

The billionaire frowned.

“Why?”

“Because we’re hanging out with you guys, today.”

“I don’t remember sending out invitations.”

“We didn’t ask,” she pointed out. “Can I walk him?” she asked when Bob finished and decided he was ready to move on.

Tony handed her the leash.

“If you’re walking him when he craps, you’re the keeper of the bag.”

“He’s not going to poop while I’m walking him.” The assassin slid her hand along the dog’s head – and Tony noticed she didn’t have to bend down to do it. “ _Are_ you Bob?” she asked in soft, baby-talk. “You wouldn’t do that to me…”

The mastiff wagged his tail in agreement.

“He’s duplicitous,” Tony said with a shrug.

“Did you see the paper?”

“No. Why?”

“There’s a write up about Peter.”

“What?”

“About what happened, yesterday. Somehow, they got his name and they did some digging. He’s going to have his 15 minutes of fame, now.”

“He’s a minor. How did anyone get his name?”

“It’s the press, Tony. It’s what they do. They sensationalize things. You know that better than anyone. But we thought we’d spend the day with you guys and help keep him grounded a bit.”

“Yes, because there’s nothing sensational about hanging out with the _Avengers_ ,” he said, sarcastically, even though he knew Peter would love the idea.

“And living with _Ironman_ is any less unbelievable?”

“Point taken.” He shrugged. “The paper thing is no big deal, really. He’s not going to public school, anymore and my place is Fort Knox. Someone walks in and I’ll have FRIDAY zap them.”

“We’ll keep him out of the limelight when he’s at the compound, too, of course,” she added. “We just thought you should know, since he does enjoy walking Bob out in the neighborhood.”

“Yeah. I appreciate that.” He smirked when the dog suddenly stopped and squatted, and she scowled. “So what are our plans for the day, then? Barbeque, I assume?”

“Yeah, that’s what we thought. You can make us some potato salad.”

“Call Steve and tell him to buy potatoes, then.”

>>>><><>>> 

Despite the slight chill of the day, the others were with Peter on the balcony when Tony and Natasha returned after their walk with the dog. The two adults were clearly asking Peter about the day before, because he was pantomiming trying to open a car door when Tony glanced out the door as they walked into the kitchen area with Bob ambling alongside Natasha. The billionaire checked the dog’s water dish, but it was full, and then they went out onto the balcony with the others.

Peter smiled when they joined them.

“She found you?”

“She’s a _spy_ ,” he reminded the boy. “It wasn’t too tricky. We’re going to tell Steve to get potatoes while he’s at the store. Anything else you want?”

“Grapes?”

“Fair enough.”

Tony made his call, and Natasha made a show of checking Peter’s face out, tsking over the bruise that had formed by the cut above his eye and the scrapes that were already looking much better. He was wearing a heavy sweatshirt against the slight chill of the day, so they couldn’t see the bruising on his back, but he was being pretty careful with his hand, which told them all that it was still hurting.

He was having way too much fun, though, to even think of taking more pain medication than he already had, because he didn’t want to sleep the day away and miss any of it.

“They told you about the newspaper article?” Tony asked when he returned to the balcony.

“Yes. Should I be worried or anything?”

“Nope. You didn’t do anything wrong. But the reporters might want to get close to you if they see you out walking Bob. So you might find your picture being taken.”

“The good thing, though,” Clint said, taking a drink of the cola he’d taken from Tony fridge. “That monster dog of yours isn’t going to let anyone close to you, really.”

Tony nodded.

“Good point.”

“Plus, he’s a _minor_ ,” Sam added. “They start harassing him, they can get into serious trouble. Emancipated or not.”

“True.” Natasha put an arm around Peter’s bony shoulder and pulled him close. “If they get to be too annoying, Peter,” she said. “Just tell me a name, and I’ll make sure they stop.”

Peter chuckled at that, but none of the others did.

“He starts homeschooling Monday?” Clint asked.

“Yeah.”

“How does that work?”

“Friday downloaded all the things – the curriculum – and I’ll test him this weekend to see where he stands, right now, and that’s where he starts in the standard curriculum.”

“What if he’s past all of it, already?”

“Then we’ll give him a refresher and have him take the final exam.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. Then he gets his diploma and we send him to MIT.”

Peter smiled at that.

“Have him take the test, now,” Natasha suggested. “I want to see how he does.”

“Yeah,” Clint agreed. “He’s probably ready to graduate, already.”

Tony shrugged, looking at the boy.

“We need to do it. If you do it today, then we’ll have the weekend free to amuse ourselves.”

“That’s fine.” Peter was curious how he’d do.

Stark motioned for him to go to the display by the entrance, and had FRIDAY bring up the test.

“No helping him, guys.”

Romanoff rolled her eyes.

“I’m the _muscle_. I doubt he’d need my help.”

>><><><>> 

“Why is everyone looking at Peter?” Bruce asked Tony, setting a bag of groceries down on the island but looking out at the balcony.

“They’re not. He’s taking his placement tests to set up homeschooling for Monday, and the others are taking it, too.”

“Seriously?”

“The first question came up and they all got it wrong – Peter got it right. So I might have mentioned that they’re all idiots. Which, of course, was a challenge they couldn’t resist.”

“How are they doing?”

Tony shrugged.

“Won’t know until it’s done and graded. So they’re going to be distracted for a while. It’s a pretty long test.”

“Huh.” Bruce walked over and peered over Peter’s shoulder at the display in front of him, and the boy looked up at him and smiled a greeting before turning back to what he was doing. “It doesn’t look too hard.”

“Well, you’re a _genius_ , right?” Steve said, looking over Peter’s shoulder, as well. “It better not.”

“Can we do this test, too?” Bruce asked.

“No, they’re too far into it now for you to catch up. I’ll have FRIDAY upload it your lab, if you want to check it out – same for the compound for you, Steve.”

They were satisfied with that. Which was good, because Tony didn’t want to have to peel the potatoes all by himself.


	92. 92

The steaks were on the grill and Tony was finishing the last touches on the potato salad when Peter finished his test. He got up and walked over to where Steve was standing at the grill, Bob watching, hopefully, with a thin trail of drool literally going from the dog’s jowls to almost the ground.

“Finished?” Bruce asked.

He was lounging at the edge of the balcony, watching the city below. The evening was fast approaching, and the streetlights were coming on, as well as all the other lights that made up a city that size. Even more, the day had gone from bright and sunny to overcast and the air was heavy with the promise of rain – although so far none was forthcoming.

“Yeah.”

“How do you think you did?”

“Okay. Some were hard.”

“You mean like which president had three cabinet members who died of _tuberculosis_?” Clint asked, looking up from the tablet that Tony had provided for him to take the test with. “Who needs to know that?”

“Apparently a tenth grader,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“Are you guys almost done?” Tony asked, coming out onto the balcony. “I’m _starving_.”

“I am,” Natasha said, closing the laptop she’d been using. “How long until we know the results?”

“FRIDAY sends them to a scoring program, and it has to be verified, and all that. A couple of hours or so.”

Which meant that they could eat, first.

Peter handed Bob a piece of a hotdog he took off the plate that Steve was filling from the grill.

“What if I failed?”

Tony shook his head.

“Can’t fail it, Peter. It’s a _placement_ , that’s all.”

“Besides,” Bruce added. “Your grades were fine at your regular school. I doubt you’re suddenly going to become dumb, just because you’re living with _Tony_.”

Which made Stark roll his eyes, although he chose not to respond to the amused challenge in Banner’s expression.

“How’s the hand?”

“It’s okay.”

“Sore?”

“A little.”

“We’ll give you something with dinner, alright? Take the edge off, if nothing else.”

Clint finished his test a few minutes later, and Sam was right behind him.

They turned their attention to eating, then, and the conversation almost naturally turned to the accident. Not surprising, since the Avengers were used to briefings, and asking questions. The how, what and whys being the most pertinent. They already knew the when and where, obviously.

Not too surprisingly, it was Steve that asked Peter the questions, with the others listening in as they heard a more descriptive telling of the rescue and the explosion. Peter eventually shrugged.

“I didn’t do anything more than someone else would have done, really,” he reminded them. “I just was able to actually do it, because I’m _stronger_.”

“You didn’t give yourself a chance to get away before the explosion, though,” Sam told him. “You gotta make your rescues faster. Before the tank blows up and tries to kill you.”

“I’m still learning,” the boy said, a little defensively.

Which made the others smile, and Natasha pull him into another of her impulsive hugs. That also made those who knew her smile, because she wasn’t a hugger by nature and it seemed to be something that Peter brought out in her. A maternal instinct, maybe - or maybe just the soft side. Not that any of them would dare to ask her.

“You’re doing fine, Peter,” she assured him. “Don’t take it as criticism – at least, not as _negative_ criticism. It’ll make you better for next time.”

“She’s right,” Steve said. “And so are _you_. You’re still learning. Not only _what_ you can do, but how best to apply those abilities to helping people. I’m impressed, really. You went straight to the trouble and didn’t hesitate to do what you could to help. Nothing to be worried about.”

A fat raindrop suddenly landed on the table between them, followed by several more.

“Uh-oh,” Natasha said, looking up. " _That_ is.”

“Everyone start bringing the food in,” Tony ordered. “Peter? Grab Bob before he gets rained on. I don’t want the place smelling like wet dog.”

The boy did as he was told and he distracted the dog with a thorough scratch with his good hand while the others brought in anything that could get rained on and set it on the table.

“Maybe you could invest in an umbrella for your balcony, Tony?” Natasha said, flipping her hair to shake the few raindrops out of it.

“It’s not that easy,” he said, distracted. “The water still goes somewhere. And that’s a long way down. I’d have to set up a drain to connect with the other spouts and the list goes on and on. It’s just easier to come inside. Peter? Come eat, honey.”

The room was suddenly silent; all of them looking at him – including Peter.

He rolled his eyes. There was no way it was a _secret_ – not with the group in front of him. They were too smart and too insightful for there to be any kind of shock. Only the surprise that he’d outed himself, more than anything, he realized.

“Whatever. Wait until I call Steve _baby_.”

Natasha laughed.

“Come on, Peter, sit by me and tell me what you cut your hand on. Was it something from the explosion after the car went up? Or the glass?”

They finished eating at the table, and to Peter’s relief the topic of conversation went from him and the rescue to other, more mundane Avenger issues. Still interesting to the boy (until they were starting to discuss people they knew that he didn’t) and really, it was fun to sit and silently squee about the fact that he was hanging out with the Avengers.

Eventually, the conversation turned back to Peter, again. What he wanted to do when he was older. How they could help him accomplish that. He was a little overwhelmed by it all, but was feeling the not so subtle side effects of the painkiller Tony had given him for his hand, and that was keeping him calm enough to admit that he really didn’t know what he wanted to do – only that it was going to be something to do with science or tech.

Bruce started making suggestions, but before he could say anything beyond R&D, they were interrupted with a soft chime and FRIDAY’s mellow voice.

_“Results are in.”_

Tony winked at the boy.

“ _Now_ we find out just how smart you are.”

>>><<><<> 

“This is _bull_ …”

Bruce smirked, looking at Sam.

“It’s scientifically verified.”

“Oh, _science_ can kiss my – you know _what_? I want to take that test, again. Obviously, I was just pressing the wrong number on the answer key, or something. This can’t be right.”

Natasha smiled, enjoying the tantrum, immensely.

“So, you’re an eighth grader… don’t be such a baby.”

“He can’t help himself,” Clint added. “Probably all of those eight-grade hormones flooding through him.”

“Seriously…” Sam held up a warning hand. “Someone’s going to end up getting tossed out into the rain. I shit you not.”

_“Language…”_

Steve was amused than anything, but he had an image to uphold, after all.

Clint winked.

“We wouldn’t want to have to put you in time out.”

Peter laughed at that, amused at how Sam was being teased – especially since he obviously didn’t mind at all – and relieved that _he’d_ done fairly well on his placement. He’d known that he was smart and doing advanced work, and it showed.

“A sixteen-year-old _senior_ ,” Tony said, looking over at him. “It shouldn’t take too long to get you a diploma, really.”

“There’s no _rush_ , though, either,” Romanoff added. “Enjoy your childhood, Peter. While you can.”

“You and Sam can join _Boy Scouts_ ,” Clint told him. "And Little League." He laughed, finding himself suddenly under assault and tackled to the floor by the other man.

Bob had been stretched out at Peter’s feet, but the commotion brought him to his feet and he ambled over to make sure no one was actually being injured – and to join the dog pile.

Which made Peter’s smile grow, and wish that his hand didn’t hurt so much so that he could join in, too.


	93. 93

“If he’s bothering you, I could put him to bed…”

Natasha looked at the boy who was sound asleep, his cheek on her thigh, injured hand tucked carefully against his chest while the good arm was wrapped around her leg like a stuffed animal. She smiled when she realized that he was drooling, just a little, on her pant leg.

“Nah. Don’t bother. He looks comfortable.”

They were sitting on the sofa, watching a movie to kill time. Sam had demanded to retake the placement test, and when Tony had FRIDAY bring it up, Bruce and Steve had been curious enough to ask if they could take it, as well. All three men had finished, and they were now just waiting for the results before heading back.

Tony had wanted to give Peter a chance to calm down and relax a little, thinking that it would make him sleep better that night, and had suggested that they start a movie while the test was being taken. Clint, Natasha and Peter had agreed, and had gone into the living room with Tony. Then, while Natasha and Tony took the couch with Peter between them, Clint had sprawled on the floor next to Bob, resting his head on the big mastiff’s belly.

Halfway through the movie Peter was asleep, and the others finished their tests at almost the same time, wandering in to the living room area as well, and settling themselves around the giant TV to finish the program and wait for their results.

“He’s okay?” Bruce asked, softly, when the movie was over and he noticed that Peter had toppled, and was now using Natasha as a pillow.

“He’s fine,” Tony assured him. “It’s been a long day and he took a painkiller.”

“How could he be anything _but_ fine?” Sam asked, rhetorically. “Look where his head is. If I tried that, she’d have chopped it off. Not to mention his hand.”

They all smiled at that, and the superspy smirked.

“You can always try it, sometime.”

“No, thank you.”

The others got up to stretch their legs – except Clint, who had also fallen asleep and was cuddled up to Bob, who was now using the archer as a pillow instead of the other way around.

“Do you plan on coming out to the compound this weekend?” Romanoff asked Tony.

“We’ll see how Peter feels. I want to work on the suit I’m making for him, but I’m waiting for the material to come in. I’m tempted to take a road trip and just go get it, myself.”

“Where is it?”

“A manufacturer down in Dallas.”

“Why don’t we take him?”

“It’s a bit far.”

“Not by jet.”

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“Use the Quinjet? To pick up something that I might not even decide to use?”

“Why not? Clint used it once to go to Seattle because he wanted Starbucks and insisted it was best at the source.”

“You weren’t supposed to _tell_ anyone,” Barton said, sleepily, looking over at them from under Bob. “Our little secret, remember?”

“We’ll come up with a new secret.” She looked at Tony. “Well? It would be fun for him, I imagine. And a last chance to have a good time before he joins the official workforce.”

“Two days a week in Bruce’s lab is hardly going to drag him to his knees,” the billionaire pointed out. “But sure, I think it’s a good idea. Thank you.”

“You kept his flight suit?”

“It’s in my quarters.”

She smiled.

“I’ll have it customized a little, to make it fit him better.”

“Keep it a little big, though, so he can wear a sweatshirt under it. He gets chilled pretty easily.”

“ _Results are in_ ,” FRIDAY announced.

Peter woke with a startled gasp, his head coming up, but Natasha beat Tony to him, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder, holding him down with a gentle touch.

“Shhh… it’s okay. You’re fine.”

He unwrapped his arm from around her leg and sat up, but didn’t look panicked, now.

“I fell asleep?”

“You did,” Tony confirmed. “How do you feel?”

“I’m okay.”

“Good.” He winked at Natasha. “Let’s go see if Sam did any better, this time.”

Peter got up a little slowly, cradling his hand, which told Tony that it was aching a bit, even the boy didn’t complain. Bruce was smiling at the display that FRIDAY was showing the results on, and grinned when Peter walked up.

“Looks like I’m ready to graduate high school. Natasha? Want to be my prom date?”

Steve was also smug.

“I’m good to graduate, also.”

“They actually asked a history question _about_ you in the thing,” Clint reminded him.

“And I got it right.”

“I noticed Sam didn’t,” Natasha said, looking over their shoulders at the display, as well. “How did you manage to get into the military?”

“I cheated on my ASFAB,” he told her, with a smirk. “Don’t be such a hater, just because you placed as well as Peter.”

“And _she_ didn’t have the American history upbringing like the rest of us,” Bruce pointed out, clearly pleased.

“Just guessed right,” Romanoff told him, not fooling any of them. Even Peter. “Are we ready to go, then? It’s getting late.”

“Yes.” Steve went to the fridge and pulled a bowl out, tucking it under his arm. “We’ll see you guys this weekend?”

“We’ll see,” Tony said, although Peter’s eyes got hopeful, which told him that they probably would. “Where are you taking the cookie dough.”

“Road trip munchies,” Clint said, approvingly. “We’ll even wash the bowl before you get it back.”

“You’re too kind,” the billionaire said, sarcastically. “All of you out. I’m tired and I need my beauty sleep.”

“They’ll have to put you in the ice for more years that Steve for it to help,” Bruce told him, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “If I don’t see you this weekend, I’ll see you in my lab on Monday, after lunch, right?”

The boy nodded, excited.

“Yes.”

They all said their goodbyes and left – leaving the kitchen clean for a change, Tony noticed. He slid a hand under the back of Peter’s sweatshirt, and pressed his lips against his ear.

“I’m going to go take Bob out. Why don’t you go ahead and get ready for bed?”

“I could come.”

“You _will_ ,” he promised. “As soon as I get back.”

It was an indication that he was still somewhat asleep when he looked at Tony for a long moment before realization of what he meant – compared to what Peter had mean – dawned on him, and the boy’s cheeks reddened in a rosy blush, his eyes growing demure.

“ _Daddy_ …”

Tony held Peter’s face, palming his warm cheeks and kissed him, tenderly.

“Go get ready for bed, honey. I want you naked when I come home. Alright?”

“Yes.”

Another kiss, and then the older man let him go and called for Bob as he headed for the elevator and the hook with the harness. Peter watched them until they left, and then went into the bathroom, stripping out of his clothes and reaching for the large plastic bag and medical tape that Tony had set on the vanity by the sink in his bathroom. He stuck his injured hand in the bag and taped it tightly closed, making it water-proof. Then he turned on the shower and got under the spray, shivering until the hot water finally warmed him.

><>><>> 

A cold hand sliding along his shoulder and then under the blanket and along his back drew him from a half-doze, and Peter looked up to see Tony leaning over the bed.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.”

His hand went into Peter’s still damp hair.”

“You showered? Without me?”

The boy smiled, turning his head to catch Tony’s hand in his and kiss it, softly.

“Next time.”

“I’ll be right back,” the older man told him.

Peter rolled onto his back, watching as Tony walked into the bathroom still dressed, but came out a short time later without anything on. The boy noted that he was already aroused, too. Which made him shiver in anticipation.

“Your face just lit up,” Tony told him, coming over to the bed and sliding under the blankets with him, his hand running smoothly along Peter’s hip. “Does that mean my baby wants something, tonight?”

“I want _you_ ,” Peter told him.

“But you need to let me know what you want, right, brave boy?”

This wasn’t new, after all, and he was getting a lot better. Besides, Tony _did_ want to know what Peter was in the mood for. He just wanted to be inside him, so if the boy had something else in mind, he’d adjust his plans, accordingly.

Peter blushed, hotly.

“I…”

“Come on, honey,” Tony said, gently, running his hand along his hip, but his eyes never leaving Peter’s. “Say it, beautiful. Daddy’s gorgeous baby.”

“Can… canIbeontop?”

Tony translated what he said and then raised an eyebrow.

“You want to be inside me?”

Peter flushed, hotly, and shook his head, burying his face in Tony’s chest.

“No.”

“You want to be on… _oh_ , you want to ride me, honey?”

“Yes.”

The billionaire chuckled.

“That can be arranged.” He pushed the blankets back and Peter started to move, but Tony held him still. “Not yet, my lovely jockey. First, let daddy take the edge off, alright?”

Peter nodded, and Tony kissed him. Then he kissed him, again, his tongue coming out to slid along Peter’s lip, which opened to allow him access to the boy’s mouth. Tony sighed, and tasted him, his tongue teasing Peter’s until he moaned into Tony’s mouth.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he told him, peppering his jawline and then his neck with butterfly kisses. “I’m so hard for you. Because my baby boy is so perfect.”

Peter whimpered, shuddering at the praise, and because it was so sincere.

“Daddy, please… now.”

“Soon, honey,” he whispered. “Let me taste you, first.”

Tony made his way down Peter’s body, his tongue and lips tasting and teasing as he moved from jaw, to neck and then to nipples, where he stopped and made love to one, and then to the other. He wet them, and then blew gently on them, while Peter mewled, softly, in response.

“So perfect,” Tony repeated, as he moved down to the boy’s stomach and then his hips, noting that they were definitely beginning to fill out a little – which pleased him as he nibbled on the tender skin next to Peter’s fully aroused cock.

And he hadn’t even touched him, yet!

He did, though, then. Licking the length of the boy's shaft and then lapping the precum oozing from the slit. Peter arched his hips, but Tony went down to his testicles, rolling them in his mouth, one by one and then both together, slurping and sucking on them and teasing them with his tongue. He released them, smiling up at Peter, who had brought his head up to watch.

The boy groaned, then, when Tony lowered his mouth onto his cock, taking him slowly into his mouth and then his throat, all the way to the root, and holding there for a ten count before pulling back and beginning to suckle in earnest, tongue and lips taking their time pleasuring his baby’s cock.

Peter groaned, and his good hand went to Tony’s hair, taking a handful despite himself, and encouraging him the best way he knew how.

“Yes, daddy! Right there… oh, daddy… please…”

Tony shuddered, his hand reaching for his own cock which was threatening to explode just from listening to the cries of pleasure his baby was making. He slurped and sucked with more enthusiasm, allowing his cock to slide against Peter’s leg as he did, leaving moist trails of precum, even as he felt his baby tense.

“Daddy…”

Peter’s hips jerked, and with just that warning, Tony latched his lips around the boy’s cock and flicked the slit with the tip of his tongue. Peter practically erupted in his mouth as his climax overcame him, and Tony murmured approvingly and he guzzled him down, taking everything he had and looking for more, until the boy’s hips stopped jerking and his cock gave a final twitch against Tony’s tongue.

“So delicious,” Tony told him, approvingly, moving to kiss him, again, sharing the flavor of him with the boy. He reached for the lube and pulled away. “Roll over, honey. Let me see your beautiful ass.”

Peter did as he was told, and presented his rear, ass up and upper body down, shiver in anticipation. This was his favorite part, and now Tony knew it. He groaned when Tony kissed his cheeks, first, and slid his tongue along Peter’s crack, tasting him with his tongue before replacing it with a lubed finger, playing with him, teasing him and stretching him while murmuring praise for him being so beautiful, so wonderful and so brave. A second finger joined the first, and this one found Peter’s prostrate, teasing and coaxing cries of pleasure from the boy, who was already gibbering with desire, cock once more achingly hard and ready.

Tony smiled, and kissed the tender flesh of his ass, taking a tender and very careful bite that made Peter jump but also made him shudder.

“Trade me places, honey,” he told him.

The boy sat up, and moved while Tony shifted onto his back on the bed. The billionaire motioned for him to straddle his hips, and Peter did, this time with Tony’s throbbing cock right behind him, brushing against the small of Peter’s back, smearing him with precum.

“Lube me,” Tony told him. “You’re ready, but we want me to slide right in.”

Peter put lube in his hand, awkwardly, and then reached behind him and slathered it on Tony’s cock, rubbing it, eagerly and amazed as always by how soft it was, and how incredibly hard it was at the same time.

“Lift up,” the older man instructed him, his hands going to Peter’s hips to help him. “Guide me to your hole, baby. Put daddy’s cock where it belongs.”

Peter reached between them, his hand blindly finding Tony’s cock and sliding it along his slick crack, settling it at his tight, puckered hole. Then he sat back, allowing his own weight to force the hard rod of flesh into him, while Tony groaned in utter bliss.

“Daddy…”

“Oh, baby.”

Tony only gave him a moment to get accustomed to his presence. Then he pulled Peter up and allowed him to drop back down, repeating this several times, helping the boy find the rhythm they were both so anxious for. When Peter caught it, Tony moved one of his hand from his hip to the boy’s cock, stroking him in time to their thrusts, crooning in pleasure until he was so breathless that all he could do was pant.

“You’re so pretty on me, Peter. My own jockey, riding me like a champ. So perfect.”

His hips were driving up against each downward motion, now, thrusting deep until he was close to climaxing. His hand was stroking Peter, tirelessly, and the boy cried out once more, his orgasm cresting, cum shooting all over Tony’s chest and hand. That triggered Tony, who grunted, and shoved himself deep and climaxed, filling Peter, who leaned back at the perfect angle to have the wet spray soak his insides at just the perfect angle.

“Yes…! Daddy!”

Tony smiled, shuddering as his balls emptied into the perfect boy. The one who was riding him so wonderfully.

“Oh, baby… so fucking amazing. Peter. Yes.”

Peter smiled, leaning forward, still impaled on Tony, and enjoying the sensation.

“Yes…”


	94. 94

Tony frowned, looking out the window door that led to the balcony the next morning as he walked into the kitchen, sleepily. It was raining like a sonofabitch.

He hadn’t _known_ that, of course, when Bob had come to their bed and woke them, demanding to be taken out. If he had, _he_ would have been the one to get dressed and go out with the dog, instead of allowing Peter to do it. The boy was smart, though; he wouldn’t stay out any longer than needed. And definitely not long enough to get chilled.

Just in case, though, he started water to boiling to make oatmeal, and then went into the bathroom closet and pulled a few towels. One for Peter – just in case he was wet – and two for _Bob_.

“Watch for Peter, FRIDAY,” Tony ordered. “Let me know when he comes in.”

By the time he received the message that they were back, breakfast was ready, being kept warm in the oven, dishes were sitting on the table for the two of them – and Bob’s feeder was filled.

The billionaire met them at the door, tsking. Peter’s sweatshirt was drenched from the rain; his hair was soaked, despite having his hood up. Bob was no better, really. The dog had shaken himself, thoroughly, when they’d come into the lobby, but he was still pretty wet.

“ _You_ , to the shower,” Tony told Peter, lovingly toweling his hair for him. “Now.”

“Bob’s wet.”

“I’ll take care of him, honey. Shower and get warmed up, and put on some dry clothes, okay? Then come have breakfast.”

The boy nodded and went into his bedroom, already stripping out of his wet clothing, and Tony turned to the dog, who was watching him, cheerfully.

“ _You_ are not going anywhere near the couch, mister,” Tony told him. “We’ll never get the wet dog smell out of the leather.”

Bob idly wagged his tail and held still while Tony dried him with the first towel and then switched over to the other when that one was too wet. The dog abandoned him, then, and went to find his breakfast, while Tony went to check on Peter.

The boy was standing under the spray, his injured hand once more wrapped in a plastic bag to keep the bandages and stitches dry and Tony leaned against the vanity to watch him.

“How does the hand feel?” he asked, when Peter turned the water off after a short time.

The boy shrugged, presenting himself to Tony to dry him off, again, although this time he started with his hair and gently worked his way down, taking the bag off the injured hand but not touching it, even with the towel.

“It’s just sore.”

“We’ll change the bandages after we eat, alright?”

Peter nodded.

“Yes, daddy.”

Tony smiled; it would never get old to hear him call him that.

“Can I dress you, honey?”

The boy looked surprised by the question and then blushed, slightly, and his expression turned bashful – which was absolutely adorable.

“Yes.”

He took Peter’s hand and walked him out to the bedroom, stopping at the dresser.

“Bottom layer, first,” Tony crooned. He wanted to take his time, but Peter was shivering – not surprisingly – so he didn’t play, too much. “What color boxers, today, honey?” he asked, opening the drawer.

“You choose.”

Tony pulled out a pair of blue silk boxers and knelt in front of Peter.

“Hand on my shoulder, sweetheart.”

He held Peter’s underwear by his feet and then boy’s good hand went to Tony’s shoulder for balance while he put one foot into them and then the other. Tony pulled them up over the lean hips and pressed a gentle kiss against the boy’s flat stomach as he covered him from view.

“We’re not going anywhere, today – not with this rain. So sweats, alright?”

“Yes, daddy.”

He didn’t get up; he just reached over and opened the appropriate draw and pulled out sweats, and helped Peter into those as well.

“I’ll pick your shirt, too.”

“Okay.”

Tony smiled, getting to his feet and finding Peter a plain blue t-shirt and dressing it in him.

“They match your underwear,” he said. “Always match your underwear, if you can.”

“Did FRIDAY teach you that?”

“Something like that.” He slipped a light gray sweatshirt over the boy’s head and eased his battered hand into the sleeve, and pulled him into his arms for a moment. “Does your hand hurt more than yesterday? Or less?”

“About the same, really. I think. I’m not sure, because I was on medicine, yesterday and it didn’t hurt as much when I was.”

“Well, let’s eat and get you something for it.”

He walked him to the table and seated him, then brought out the oatmeal, along with a plate that held sausages and fruit – enough for both of them. Peter set to with typical teenaged enthusiasm and Tony retrieved a painkiller for him before sitting down to eat, as well.

“How was the walk?” he asked, curiously, glancing over at Bob, who was in his dog bed and already dozing. “It took longer than usual.”

“A guy wanted to talk to me,” Peter said. “He didn’t, though,” he added, quickly. “Clint was right about Bob keeping people from getting too close. Or at least, this guy didn’t seem to want to get near him.”

“Yeah, you might get some of that.” Tony wasn’t sure whether to be worried about it, or not, really. The press weren’t dangerous – just a nuisance, usually – but paparazzi were another matter, entirely.” “Maybe we’ll see if Monica’s son can train Bob to look as menacing as Boomer does.”

The boy smiled at that.

“He didn’t have a camera, or anything. I don’t know if he was a reporter.”

“I don’t have to tell you I don’t want you going anywhere with anyone, right? A stranger, I mean? Or even if it’s a reporter that you recognize.”

“Yeah. No. I won’t,” Peter assured him. “ _Stranger danger_ and all that, right?”

Right.

With Peter’s extra abilities, they didn’t really need to worry that someone could force him into anything.

“Yes. Good.” He shrugged. “Today, we’ll thwart them all by simply staying home. But even if they don’t know exactly where you live, they know the neighborhood and Bob is a beacon. Just ignore them if they are bothering you and keep walking. If you need me, though, you can call.”

“I will.”

Stark frowned, mind still working the problem.

“Maybe I’ll tinker with your watch, today, and put a voice feature on it to allow you to interact with FRIDAY, directly. Then you wouldn’t need to dial – just tap it and tell her to call me.”

Peter’s expression told him just how much he liked that idea. Not from a safety point, Tony was sure, but because it was _tech_ , and they already knew how Peter felt about tech.

“Can you do that, here?” he asked, curiously. “You don’t need your workroom?”

“Nah, mostly I need a work display and FRIDAY. _Usually_. Eat, honey. I’ll show you, later.”

The boy nodded and turned his attention back to the meal.

>>><><><<> 

“It doesn’t look too bad…”

Tony had to agree.

The back of Peter’s hand was cut – stitches going across almost the length of it. They were red and the area was a little swollen, but they were clean, with no pus or bleeding around them. The palm of Peter’s hand was burned from grabbing the hot metal of the car door, and it was red and painful-looking. Tony slathered on the burn medicine, heavily, before wrapping the whole hand in soft bandages.

“Does it hurt, much?”

“A little.” Peter smiled up at him, reacting to the concern in his expression. “Don’t worry, daddy. I’m _tough_.”

“I know, baby. I just don’t like to see you hurting.”

He put the bandages and supplies on the coffee table and settled himself onto the sofa. Peter waited, politely, until he was comfortable before sliding himself into Tony’s lap, straddling him and cradling his hand between them as he leaned himself into the older man’s chest and rested his cheek against his shoulder.

“Is there anything else that you want to do, today?” Peter asked him, curiously.

“I’m going to spend the day with you, honey. Even if we never leave the couch.”

Which was a very good answer, as far as the boy was concerned. He closed his eyes and melted into Tony’s embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so much longer than I intended for it to be!


	95. 95

Not really surprising Tony, Peter eventually fell asleep on his lap. He was taking the painkillers, after all, and they were designed to cause drowsiness to make a person sleep and aid in healing. Peter was warm. He was comfortable and he was being held. As relaxed as he was, it was bound to happen that he dozed off.

Tony didn’t mind in the least. When he realized the boy was snoring softly in his ear, he smiled and shifted him just enough to allow a hand to be free. He spent his morning holding Peter with one hand and researching on his tablet with the other. The best of both of his worlds, really.

By the time Peter started stirring – sometime close to lunch – Tony had made an order with the company in Dallas for the polyfiber cloth that he wanted to use for the suit he was making for Peter – and had played a bit with the nanotech for his own suit, as well.

“Daddy?”

The voice was a mere whisper, still far more asleep than awake. It thrilled Tony, because it meant _daddy_ was becoming Peter’s default, instead of Tony. The boy was sliding into his role, deliciously.

“Hi, baby,” he crooned, turning his head and pressing a kiss against Peter’s hair. “Did you have a good nap?”

He didn’t open his eyes, but he nodded.

“Mm-hmm. Still sleepy.”

“Then go back to sleep, honey.”

“My hand hurts.”

He was tired enough that he would admit it, instead of trying to reassure Tony he was alright.

“Poor baby,” Tony crooned, looking at his watch to see how long it had been since the last painkiller. “Let me up, and I’ll get you another pill.”

“I’m _sleepy_.”

Tony rolled his eyes, enchanted by the boy at his sleepy confusion, but well aware something was going to have to give if he wanted something for his hand.

“I know, Peter,” he said. “Here, just move a little to the side.”

The boy grumbled, but he allowed Tony to ease him off his lap and onto the sofa next to him. While Tony got up to get a pill and some water, Bob ambled over at the motion and stuck his nose int Peter’s face. The boy rubbed the dog’s ear with his good hand, not even opening his eyes as he did. The mastiff eyed the space between Peter and the end of the sofa and must have decided that there was enough room for him, too, because he jumped up beside the boy, turned around a couple of times and settled in a somewhat tight ball, with his big head nudging Peter’s hand, gently, demanding petting.

Tony smiled when he returned to find half of the couch displaced by the dog, although he was dry by then, so it wasn’t an issue. He leaned over the back of the sofa and slid his hand along Peter’s shoulder, brushing his arm to get his attention. When the boy looked up, sleepily, he handed him the pill, which he took, and then a glass of water to down it with.

“I’m going to make us some lunch,” Tony murmured, leaning a little further, now, to kiss his jaw. “I don’t want you taking that without something to eat.”

“Okay.”

“Sandwiches? Or something more exotic?”

“Sandwiches.”

Peter closed his eyes, his injured hand tucked between him and Bob and his good hand resting in his lap. The billionaire smiled, amused to find himself in such a domestic scene, and also feeling something warm and happy bubbling up inside of him at being a part of it. He took the glass back from Peter and went into the kitchen.

Sandwiches didn’t take long to make – even for a food perfectionist as Tony Stark – so he returned with a plate of them to split between the two of them, along with a bag of chips. Peter opened his eyes, looking up at him, still groggy, but a little more focused than he had been.

“Can you eat?” he asked, amused when Bob lifted his head to look at the sandwiches, too. “Or do I feed my baby by hand?”

He stretched and yawned.

“Feed me?”

“I can do that, honey.”

Tony took his spot back and Peter cuddled in his side. The older man settled the plate on his lap and broke off pieces of the turkey sandwiches, popping a piece into Peter’s mouth when the boy turned his head up to him. Then he rolled his eyes and the next piece went to Bob, who had scooted himself even closer to Peter on the other side, reaching his head over the boy’s lap for a taste, too.

Peter chuckled, amused, and opened his mouth for another bite. So did Bob.

Tony took a bite for himself and then fed them both another piece, pulling his phone out and angling it to take a picture of boy and dog sitting on his sofa, expectantly.

“You’ll send me a copy?” Peter asked.

“Of course.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “FRIDAY? Send that last shot to Peter’s phone.”

A soft chime was all the acknowledgment they received, but it was all that was needed.

The sandwiches didn’t last long. Tony only gave Bob one piece for every three that he and Peter ate, but it made the danger of rebellion abate, and when they were done eating, Peter ran his hand along the billionaire’s thigh.

“Can I sit in your lap, again?”

Which made him smile.

“Of course you can, honey.”

He moved the plate out of the way and Peter climbed back into Tony’s lap, ready to cuddle, again – especially if Tony was willing to indulge him. The boy made a delightfully satisfied sound as he settled in, and Tony slid his hand down between them for just a moment, finding the soft flesh between their bodies and caressing it through the fabric of Peter’s sweats.

“You’re so pretty,” he told him, drawing Peter’s head back to his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t between them.

The boy whimpered, softly, trembling at the words and the touch, and licked Tony’s neck before brushing a kiss against it and closing his eyes. Tony felt the injured hand come to rest on his shoulder, out of the way and safe, but decided that he wasn’t going to do more than play, just then. He loved the idea of spending the rest of the day with his hand in the boy’s pants, keeping him just on the verge of climax, but that wouldn’t be conducive to the rest that his baby needed more than anything.

He turned his head and pressed a loving kiss to his temple.

“I’m just going to touch you for a little while, okay? Nothing more. Relax, baby… let daddy play with his baby, but I don’t want you to do anything to me.”

“Alright…”

His voice was uncertain, and Tony was sure that his expression would have been, as well, if he could have seen it. The older man smiled and rested his chin on Peter’s curls, his hand still brushing Peter’s lap.

“Do you want to go to the compound this weekend, honey?” he asked the boy, smiling when he felt him tense at the question.

He knew the answer – even before he asked the question.

“Can we?”

“There are very few things we _can’t_ do,” Tony assured him. He pulled his hand, reluctantly, from Peter’s pants, not wanting to work the boy up too much and have him ask for more. Because Tony would have given it to him. “In this case, I have a package I need for my current project, and Natasha has agreed to fly me to Dallas to get it.”

“You have a private plane, right?” he asked, grinding himself lightly against Tony’s lower belly.

“Yes. But she’d fly me in the _Quinjet_. She suggested you might enjoy that, more.”

He pulled his head back, looking at Tony, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Really? I could come?”

He smiled, softly, and palmed the boy’s cheek.

“I’m certainly not going to leave you with Sam and Steve for company. They’ll _corrupt_ you.”

Peter gave Tony a look that was utterly and completely one he’d picked up from the billionaire. A look that was both disbelief and amusement.

“You’re worried _Captain America_ is going to corrupt me?”

Tony smiled, and kissed him, softly, noticing that the bruising on his face wasn’t too dark that afternoon.

“There are all kinds of corruption, honey,” he explained. “Not all of them are for the dark side.”

The boy smiled at the reference.

“Right.”

“Go back to sleep,” he told Peter, guiding his head back to his shoulder “I want to cuddle my sleeping baby.”

“Alright, daddy,”

The boy shifted, just a little, bringing his hand back in between them for protection, and then closed his eyes and sighed against Tony’s neck. The billionaire smiled at the sound, and glanced over at the dog and saw that Bob was already asleep.

It was definitely a lazy, rainy, afternoon for the Stark household, but Tony liked it. He waited until Peter’s breathing leveled out and his body once more went limp against him, telling the older man the boy was asleep. Tony reached for his tablet, but then decided that he’d nap, too, instead.

Why not?


	96. 96

It was Bob who woke them. He shoved his nose into Tony’s hand, and the billionaire opened his eyes and found the mastiff standing beside the couch, watching him, expectantly, tail wagging, idly.

He needed out.

Tony yawned, and scratched the dog’s ears, the motion waking Peter, as well, who was so intimately close to Tony that he could hear his heart beating.

“Time to get up?” he asked, sleepily.

“Bob needs out. I’ll take him. It’s still raining.”

“Can I come with you?”

“I want you to stay dry.”

Peter kissed Tony’s neck.

“Do you have an umbrella?” he asked. “I can hold it, if you hold Bob’s leash. I couldn’t handle both, this morning. Then we could _both_ stay dry.”

And he could get some exercise.

Not that he minded sitting on the couch all day, though. Especially not in Tony’s lap like he was, just then.

“I do have an umbrella.”

“ _Please_ , daddy?” Peter said, licking Tony’s neck and jaw. “I want to come, too.”

The older man smiled, rolling his eyes and tilting his head, just a little, to allow the boy better access.

“You’re getting pretty good at that, honey.”

Whether he meant arousing him with a touch, or using the words _please daddy_ to get anything he wanted, Tony didn’t elaborate. Instead, he held still to allow Peter a chance to slide out of his lap, and sent the boy to get them shoes while he harnessed Bob near the elevator.

Peter’s only jacket was a fairly light-weight one, which he slipped on over the sweatshirt he was wearing, while Tony put on a weather-proof windbreaker with a warm lining. They’d have to get the boy some winter wear, since the weather was definitely changing. He handed Peter the umbrella, reminded him not to jar his hand, and they headed for the lobby – and the exit beyond.

>>><<>< 

“Are you warm enough?”

Peter nodded, smiling, and holding the umbrella carefully over the two of them, which gave them an excuse to stand close to each other while they waited for Bob to inspect a tree that he inspected every time they walked.

“I’m find, daddy,” he assured him, softly.

The rain was pouring down around them, still, and there weren’t a lot of people out on the sidewalks because of it. Most of those who were out and about were on their way from one place to another and not paying attention to anyone around them – although people tended to make sure to give Bob plenty of space, Tony had noticed with approval.

They finished their walk, headed back to the apartment, and Tony dried Bob with the same towels he’d used that morning, and sent the dog to his bed with the enormous chew bone, while he and Peter went into the kitchen make dinner.

Well, _he_ started dinner, the boy simply sat at the island and watched as he put water on to boil noodles to make a casserole. Not Tony’s idea of fine dining, but Peter loved every kind of noodle casserole the billionaire had put in front of him, and they were filling and wholesome. Exactly the meal to give someone you were trying to fatten up a little.

While the noodles were being taken care of, Tony seated himself at the dining table with Peter’s watch and FRIDAY close at hand to do diagnostic and assist in integrating the watch with an instant connection to him. Peter watched for a few minutes, but the tech was beyond him, so he wasn’t really able to follow along. Instead, he slid his uninjured hand along Tony’s leg, lightly, as he leaned against him, content to simply observe.

Tony, predictably, thoroughly enjoyed the attention. Both his company and his touch. Peter wasn’t even all that close to his lap, but the older man was becoming aroused as he worked, and by the time he finished working with the watch and had tested it to make sure of the functionality, the noodles were ready to be drained and he was sporting a fairly impressive erection.

He sent Peter to the sofa and got up to put the casserole together. When he returned to the boy’s side, his expression was alive with anticipation.

“Look what you’ve done to me, baby,” Tony said, taking Peter’s hand and guiding to his groin, which was still hard. “Just being close to me, like you were.”

The boy caressed him through his sweats, trailing his hand along the throbbing shaft.

“Should I take care of it?” he offered, his brown eyes gleaming with desire.

“I’ll fuck you later and take care of it,” he assured Peter. “Why don’t you play with me, for a while? Practice? But don’t let me climax, alright? I don’t want to fill your belly before dinner.”

Peter nodded and started to slide off the sofa to get a better angle, but Tony stopped him.

“No, honey. I want to play with you, too, and I can’t reach you if you’re on the floor. Just put your face in my lap.”

He pulled down the front of his sweats and Peter licked his lips before he started to tease Tony’s cock with his tongue, licking the tip, looking for precum, and teasing the shaft. The billionaire gave a soft moan of approval and slid his hand along the boy’s hip, under his sweats and along his ass – which made Peter voice his own approval. Tony smiled, and idly caressed Peter while watching him suckle on his cock, but never actually taking into his mouth to blow him.

“You’re so beautiful, honey,” he murmured, approvingly. “I love how you play with daddy’s cock. You love it, don’t you?”

He pulled away long enough to nod, and to look up at Tony, knowing that he was getting more aroused by saying those things than really needing an answer. He was close enough to feel it as well as see it, but Peter was all for it. He was finding that he enjoyed role plays that Tony exposed him to.

“Yes, daddy. I love it.”

Peter turned his attention back to Tony’s cock and now he did put his mouth over it, sliding it into his mouth and trying to get him down his throat.

“Jesus, Peter…”

He pushed down until he felt the head hit the back of his mouth and tried to suppress the gag reflex but had to pull back, drooling and a little breathless. He felt Tony’s fingers sifting through his hair, lovingly, and tried again, and again. Not with success, but the attempts were having their own effect on the older man, because Peter could feel him tensing more with each try. Remembering that Tony didn’t want to actually set off, Peter finally pulled his head back and simply lapped at the head and shaft of his cock for a little while, enjoying the noises he made and the way his hand felt on his own rear.

_“Incoming call from Natasha Romanoff…”_

Tony made an annoyed noise, looking down at Peter, who looked up at him at the announcement, clearly wondering what Tony wanted him to do.

“Keep going, honey. It’s fine.”

Peter turned his attention back to the billionaire’s cock, and Tony closed his eyes as the boy’s lips found a particularly sensitive spot. God damn…

“Connect Natasha – audio only FRIDAY.”

_“Connected.”_

“Agent Romanoff.”

_“Tony.”_ Her voice was serious enough to make Peter lift his head. _“We have a situation.”_

“Oh?”

_“Yes. We’re going to need to go to Germany.”_

“When?”

_“Soon as you get here.”_

“We’re on our way.”

The call ended and he looked at Peter.

“Go get dressed, honey. Pack some clothes.”

He got up and went to turn off the oven.


	97. 97

“Please let me come.”

Tony shook his head, his eyes and expression troubled.

“I _can’t_ , Peter,” he told the boy.

“I could _help_.”

“You’re _already_ hurt,” the older man pointed out, carefully taking Peter’s bandaged hand in his own. “You wouldn’t be able to help us – and you’d be a distraction that I can’t afford. Besides, _someone_ needs to watch Bob.”

They were standing in Peter’s guest quarters at the compound only two hours after the call had come in from Natasha Romanoff. On the bed was Peter’s backpack, which held a couple of changes of clothes and toiletries. On the floor against the wall was a much larger stack of supplies for Bob; a large bag of kibble, a plain dish rather than his automatic feed, water bowl, a few toys and the dinosaur legbone chewie.

Now they were saying goodbye, before Peter walked Tony out to the jet for the emergency flight to Germany.

“ _Please_ , Tony…”

He knew this wasn’t a time to use the daddy plead, but he was so tempted to do just that, and the billionaire could see the worry in his beautiful brown eyes. He pulled Peter into his arms and held him, tightly, his lips pressed against the boy’s ear.

“It won’t be any longer than it has to be, honey. Then we’ll finish the conversation we were having. Okay?”

Peter sniffed, and buried his face against Tony’s neck, just under his jaw.

“Alright.”

“I love you.”

Another sniff, and he could feel the tear that fell on his collarbone.

“I love you, too.”

It was several long minutes before Peter was able to get himself composed enough to walk with Tony to the Quinjet, where the others were waiting. The boy was carrying a small travel bag, but it was Tony’s and not one for himself.

“Poor baby looks terrified,” Natasha murmured to the others as the two approached the rest of the team, who were waiting for Tony.

“Yeah, he does,” Bruce agreed.

“He’ll be alright,” Steve assured them. “We go and come back a few times, and he’ll get used to it.”

“Or he’ll be _joining_ us,” Clint said.

“We’ll see.”

“Hey, guys,” Tony said with forced levity when they were within hearing. “Someone called for Ironman?”

“Thanks for coming,” Steve said. “We could use a bit of a show of force.”

“Yeah, of course. It’ll be fun. It’s been a while since I’ve blown anything up.”

“Where’s Bob?” Natasha asked Peter, who wasn’t looking any less worried, despite Tony’s best effort.

“Happy has him out in the field.”

“You’re going to stay here?”

Peter nodded.

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to risk someone from the press happening on him without me in shouting distance,” Tony explained. “If he’s _here_ , they’d have to go through Nice to get to him – which is plenty of deterrent.”

“Because I’m a bad ass,” Nick said, walking up behind them. “Between myself – and that monster that you call a _dog_ – we’ll keep Peter out of trouble.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Natasha drew Peter into an impulsive hug.

“We won’t be gone, long. Will you water my plant?”

The boy tucked his face into her collarbone and nodded, and she could feel him tremble – and knew it had nothing to do with the temperature, or that she smelled good.

“Sure.” He forced himself to let her go and stepped back, giving the others a smile and then one final glance at Tony. “You guys be careful.”

“We always are,” Steve assured him.

Tony met Peter’s gaze, smiling softly for just a moment, before he turned to Fury.

“He hasn’t had dinner, yet.”

The former SHIELD director nodded.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“No _strawberries_ ,” Natasha reminded him, making Peter smile for the first time.

“Don’t you guys have somewhere to be?” Nick asked, pointedly.

He put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, moving the two of them back a few steps to give the ramp room to lift and close. A moment later the engines fired up, the jet lifted vertically, hovered and then was gone with a muted roar.

The boy watched it until it was completely out of sight – well after Fury had lost sight of it – and then turned to the older man, trying to look a lot calmer than he really felt. The last thing he wanted was to have Nick Fury witness his nervous breakdown, after all. Especially since he and the other Avengers had already dealt with one panic attack.

“I don’t _really_ need a baby-sitter…”

The one eye showed clear amusement, and he smiled, and slapped the boy’s shoulder before dropping his hand.

“Good. They don’t pay me enough to baby-sit a _teenager_. Come on, Peter. Let’s get your dog from Happy so he can go home, and then find something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Okay.”

OOOOOOO

“Is he allowed people food?”

“Yes. But not a lot. And none of the things that are bad for dogs, obviously. No chocolate, grapes or things like that. He’s not a very aggressive beggar, luckily.”

They were in the lounge, now, and Nick and Robert were sitting with Peter. All three were eating, although Nick and Peter were actually eating as if they were _hungry_ , and the doctor must have eaten earlier, because he was only nibbling his meal.

“A dog as big as he is would be overwhelming if he were aggressive in any form,” Robert said, looking at Bob, who was standing beside Peter’s chair with his head in the boy’s lap. In his whole lap. “It’s a good thing they’re a good natured breed.”

“How is he taking to the apartment?”

“He seems fine,” Peter told them. “Has his own bed, and we take him out a few times a day, but he doesn’t much care to go too far. He’s pretty lazy.”

“You can use any area that you want to, to take him out,” Nick told Peter. “But if you let him run around, use the training field, near the helipad.”

“Thanks.”

“We’ve already given the SHIELD agents word that you’re here and not to be stopped. Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“No. Thanks, though. It’s great. I can come in here?”

“We expect you to,” Nick assured him. “Whenever you want. And definitely to eat. The food in the commissary isn’t bad, of course, but this place is really good – and I want to make sure you’re at least as healthy, if not healthier – when Tony gets back.”

Peter smiled at that, and then hesitated.

“Can you tell me where they’re going? And why?”

“There’s a situation in Germany,” Nick answered without hesitation. “Clint has a few contacts there, but it’s not enough, and while it’s not very serious at the moment, if we allow it to fester, it’ll explode and cross borders. Right now, with the proper show of force and the right infiltration team, we’ll have it taken care of in a matter of days, most likely. If it gets worse, it’ll take months, and risk a lot of innocent lives.”

“Oh.” He chewed a mouthful of bread. “I though the Avengers were only doing things in the US…”

Honestly, he hadn’t really thought about it, but he supposed that he’d thought they were limited to New York – which was ridiculous, of course.”

“Earth’s mightiest heroes,” Nick told him, amused. “Not just America’s.”

“Steve’s _Captain America_ , though,” Robert pointed out. “It makes sense the boy would think that.”

That started the doctor and Nick off on a conversation of diplomacy and borders and foreign policy that was way of Peter’s head – and he was far from stupid, he knew. He listened, but didn’t understand much of it, and finished working his way through his dinner. Finally, he waited for a break in the discussion and spoke up.

“I’m going to take Bob out, and then find something to do. Is that alright?”

“You don’t need to ask permission, son,” Nick told him. “You can do whatever you want to do. You’re our guest, not a prisoner. Just don’t touch anything that says _don’t touch_ – or go anywhere that says _keep out_. Got it?”

“Yes.”

The boy picked up his dishes and returned them to the bar, and accepted a bottle of coke from the bartender before he called to Bob – who wasn’t leashed, now – to follow him. They headed out the door of the lounge area, and Peter started toward his temporary quarters, but then hesitated and turned the opposite direction, walking the almost empty corridors with Bob at his side until he stopped in front of Tony’s workroom. He hesitated, wondering if he could even get in – or if FRIDAY would even talk to him – and then tried to door.

His palm felt warm as the scanner read his print and the lock clicked as it opened. Peter smiled, holding the door for Bob, and then closing it behind him.

_“Hello, Peter.”_

His smile grew; the little techie inside him giddy.

“Hi, FRIDAY. Can we work on my new webshooters?”

There was a pause, and then to Peter’s delight, it was Tony he heard, next.

_“What’s up, honey?”_

“Nothing,” Peter told him, speaking into the air like he did with FRIDAY, feeling empty without having Tony with him, and excited because he was someplace that he knew no one else at the compound would ever be allowed to go alone. “I just finished eating, and wondered if FRIDAY and I could work on my webshooters? Or something else. It’s okay if you’d rather I wait.”

_“No. It’ll keep you occupied, I imagine. I’ll give you limited access to the workroom files. Anything that you need, or want – aside from manufacturing, okay? I don’t want you building a bomb or something, accidentally. You can show me what you’ve done when we get back.”_

“Thanks.” He went over and sat down on a stool that Tony normally occupied. “Are you there, yet?”

_“Not even close. Don’t stay up all night. Understand?”_

“I won’t.”

_“And don’t you dare dream about anything but_ me _.”_

Peter smiled. That told him that it was safe to talk to him however he wanted – at least, just then it was.

“I won’t, daddy.”


	98. 98

He didn’t stay in the workroom all night.

For one thing, FRIDAY cut off the files at 1am – in response to an internal message from Tony that was designed to keep him from staying up all night to do anything in the workroom. For another, he still had to take care of Bob, and it wasn’t fair to keep the dog stuck in the little room without anything to occupy himself.

So when the files were denied to him, Peter got up and stretched muscles that were a little stiff from being in one place for so long. Then he called Bob and the two walked the empty corridors to the closest exit, where Peter went out with the dog to give him a chance to pee. The night was incredibly _quiet_ – which was unnerving to a city kid like Peter who was used to having noises all around him. He let Bob take his time, but as soon as the mastiff was done, he hustled the dog inside and closed the door securely behind them.

There were probably wolves or lions or something out there, waiting to eat one scrawny kid the minute his back was turned.

He took Bob back to his quarters and double checked the food dish, and made sure there was water. Then he changed into sweats and a sweatshirt – painfully aware that Tony wasn’t going to be keeping him warm that evening, and went to bed.

As if aware that Peter felt alone in the huge bed, Bob didn’t flop down on the floor when he was done getting his drink. He hopped up onto the bed and flopped down, heavily, in the space next to Peter, waffling the boy in a not so subtle plea to be cuddled.

The boy was more than willing. He rubbed the dog’s side, lovingly, and Bob rolled to give him access to his stomach, which made Peter smile and scratch him lightly until the big animal fell asleep. Peter wondered what Tony was doing, but didn’t want to call and possibly interrupt him. He looked at his watch and did the math in his head and sighed.

Maybe Tony would call him, later.

>>><<><><> 

“What are you doing?”

Peter looked over at Nick, who was wearing a pair of black sweats and a form fitting black t-shirt and looking sleepy – although it was hard to _tell_ , really, with the eye-patch.

“Playing cards.”

He held up the deck.

“Trouble sleeping?”

The boy flushed a little, embarrassed, but he nodded.

“Yes.” He didn’t want Nick to think he was worried about Tony and the others – although he knew that he was, a little. “Since I was _little_ , though. It’s nothing new.”

The SHIELD director nodded.

“You mind if I join you?”

“No.”

Nice gathered the cards that were laid out in a solitaire formation without asking for permission, and shuffled them.

“Do you know how to play blackjack?”

“A little. It’s 21, right?”

“Correct. I’ll deal.”

They played a few hands to allow Peter to familiarize himself with the game a little more, and then Nick reshuffled the deck and started playing more seriously, now. As they played, he asked Peter about himself; the usual things, and then, as the night deepened and drew closer to morning, things that were a little more personal. He heard about Peter’s aunt and uncle, and what they were like, and then Peter told him what he could remember of his parents – which might have only been memories given to him from stories that Ben and May had told the boy during his childhood.

Fury was a good listener, though – as good at interrogations as most of the Avengers, and better than most (Romanoff being an exception, of course) – and he asked subtle questions that drew the boy out, nodding and making the right noises at the right time

“They sound like they were all good people,” he finally said, when Peter ran out of things to say.

“They were.”

“They _must_ have been,” he was told. “Because you’re a good guy. That kind of thing doesn’t happen by _accident_.”

Peter’s blush was instant, but he also felt a surge of happiness at the praise for his now gone family. The fact that someone as awe-inspiring as _Nick Fury_ could say something so sincerely nice about his parents and aunt and uncle made him feel good. It wasn’t the same kind of good that he felt when Tony said something nice about _him_ , but he felt it just the same.

“Thank you.”

As if he understood, Fury nodded.

“You should try to get some sleep, Mr. Parker,” he said, gathering up the cards. “I’m not saying that as a _baby-sitter_ , but I _will_ point out that if you’re grumpy tomorrow, I’m not afraid to put you to work doing dishes or something to keep you occupied.”

The boy smiled.

“You can put me to work, anyway, if something needs to be done.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Good night.”

“Good night, Nick.” Peter got to his feet, stretching, and looking at his watch. It was pretty late. He hesitated, though. “Will you let me know if they check in, though? You know, just so I know that they’re okay?”

Fury nodded.

“I will.”

Peter left the lounge, and went back to his quarters, feeling tired enough that he was pretty sure he’d be able to sleep for a while. Whether he stayed asleep? That was another matter, entirely. He found Bob still sprawled in his bed, where he’d left him, and the dog opened his eyes just long enough to move over half an inch or so to give Peter some room on the bed before he went back to sleep.

The boy covered up as well as he could since the blankets were mostly pinned under the dog, cuddled against the warm side and went to sleep.

>>>>><><>>> 

_“How’s it going?”_

“This place is a mess, Nick. Steve and Clint are all over the place, putting the right words in the right mouths – and Romanoff is terrifying and threatening and not leaving any doubt just what will happen if this little alliance they’ve forge fails.”

_“Any indication that it will?”_

“Your guess is as good as mine. We’re not coming home, today though – not a chance in hell. The situation is too volatile.”

_“Yeah. I’m not surprised.”_

“How’s Peter?”

_“Sleeping in, I think. Security saw him outside in the wee hours of the morning with Bob, and then I found him in the lounge and played cards with him until o-dark hundred this morning. I sent him to bed around four-thirty, and I know he was spotted with Bob around 7am. Hasn’t been seen, since.”_

“Is he alright?”

_“He’s fine, Tony. I’ll take care of him. You know that.”_

“Yeah. I do. If you see him before I talk to him, tell him I’ll call him as soon as I can, will you?”

“ _Yes_.”

“And make sure he eats.”

_“I will.”_

“No-“

_“Strawberries, I know.”_

“Thanks, Nick.”

_“You’re welcome. Stay safe, will you? That is not a conversation I want to have with him. Understand?”_

“Yeah. We’re good. Natasha won’t let anyone hurt me. You know that.”

_“Check in with me when you can.”_

“Will do.”

The call ended and Tony looked at the others.

“Nick said he’s fine.”

“Did he sleep?” Sam asked.

“He’s sleeping in, he thinks.”

“Did he eat?” Natasha asked. “A _real_ meal? Not cereal, or something?”

“I don’t think so. Not, yet.”

“He needs to _eat_ , Tony…” Steve pointed out. “He-“

“Guys…” Stark held his hand up, to stop them all. “I’m in complete agreement with you. But I am also in _Germany_ with you. Which means you have just as much contact with him as I do, I’ll remind you all. Make sure _you_ remind him all of these things…”

“Don’t think we won’t,” Romanoff said.

“I’m counting on it,” he admitted.

If the Avengers nagged him, Peter would take care of himself while Tony wasn’t there to take care of him.


	99. 99

The sound of his phone alerting him to a text drew Peter’s attention from his cards. And drew everyone _else’s_ , as well.

“Which one was that?” Robert asked, torn between amusement and annoyance.

Peter looked at his phone.

“Steve. Asking if you guys have fed me and Bob dinner, yet.”

“Text him back and tell him that if he and the others don’t stop nagging, we’re going to eat _you_ for dinner,” Fury said, looking up from his own cards.

The boy smiled at the threat and typed it into his phone, taking a picture of the table; complete with Robert, Nick Fury and agent Phil Coulson, whom Peter was introduced to, just that morning, once he and Bob had gone looking for breakfast – or lunch, really, since it was almost noon.

He’d spent the day roaming the compound with Bob beside him, and responding to the several text messages that he’d received. To his delight – and awe – they weren’t all from Tony, either. The others were checking up on him, too. Even Bruce, who complained that the weather in Germany was cold and wet and that the food was out of a can instead of fresh like he preferred.

Before dinner, Nick had come and found him, pointing out that he wasn’t going to be allowed to become a hermit just because the others weren’t around to hang out with.

“Plenty of interesting people here,” he’d told Peter as the three of them walked to the lounge. “Not just the _superheroes_.”

Peter agreed, of course. He’d already figured that out. When they’d reached the lounge, Robert and Coulson were at a table, talking, and the doctor had waved the boy over.

“Tony wanted me to check your hand,” he said by way of greeting. He rolled his eyes. “Technically, he ordered me to, but since he doesn’t sign my paycheck, I’ll call it a favor, instead.”

“It’s okay,” Peter had assured him.

“One way to be sure.” Robert had gestured for the boy to give him his hand, and Peter rolled his eyes and sat down, doing as he was told. The doctor had pulled out a small kit; scissors, bandages and tape, and had pulled the old bandages off and all three men had checked the burn and the stitches. “It looks pretty good,” Robert agreed. “The burn isn’t as bad as I anticipated, and the stitches are healing well.”

“To hear Tony tell it, your hand was going to fall off any minute,” Fury added.

“I heal fast,” Peter said. “It was pretty sore for a while, though.”

“I saw the medical file,” the doctor told him.

“You did?”

“Of course.” He started to bandage Peter’s hand, much more expertly than Tony had done. “You don’t really think I’d trust your care to some underpaid third year resident in the county hospital, do you?”

“I guess I never thought of it,” Peter admitted, touched.

“We’re going to have dinner,” Fury had told him, then, while Robert was clearing the equipment. “You can take a picture and send it off so Tony and the others will stop annoying me with demands for updates on what you’re doing every half an hour.”

“Are they really doing that?”

“They take turns,” Robert told him, amused, because _he’d_ received a few texts, as well – although his had all been from Tony. “ _What is he doing? Where is he? Is it raining, still? Is he outside? Don’t let him skip dinner._ ” He rolled his eyes. “The man is clearly obsessed.”

The boy had smiled at that, too.

“Let’s eat,” Fury had said. “Then we’re going to teach you how to play Pinochle.”

>>>><<<>>><<> 

_“Hi, honey.”_

Peter smiled, looking at his phone and the image on it. Tony looked a little tired, but was still as handsome and wonderful as ever, and the boy hoped he looked just as good to the older man.

“Hi, daddy…”

He was in bed, with Bob asleep beside him when Tony had called him, finally, and Peter had been quick to grab his phone.

_“What are you doing?”_

“We just got done playing cards,” he reported. “Nick and Robert taught me how to play Pinochle. Do you know Agent Coulson?”

_“Yes.”_

“He played, too. They’re going to teach me poker, tomorrow. How are you?”

_“I’m fine. We’re getting this mess cleaned up as fast as we can. How is your hand? Robert told me he had a chance to look at it, earlier.”_

Which means that he’d talked to the doctor sometime between dinner and just then, Peter decided.

“It hardly hurts. The burn looks good, he said.”

_“How’s Bob?”_

“Asleep.” Peter turned the phone so he could see the dog snoring beside him, and then turned it back to himself. “I _miss_ you.”

Even on the screen he could see the way the other man’s expression softened.

_“Oh, Peter, I miss you, too, honey. This is important, though. You know that, right?”_

“Yeah. Of course. I understand. I _do_. But it doesn’t mean I have to _like_ it, right?”

_“That is true. Tell me what you did, today.”_

“I looked around a bit, with Bob. We met Phil, and Robert and Nick are going to take me golfing, tomorrow. Had lunch, played cards, Robert looked at my hand… had dinner, took Bob out, and then spent some time in the lounge putting together another jigsaw puzzle with Nick before coming here to bed.”

_“Sounds like a good day.”_

“What did _you_ do?”

_“Hovered around looking intimidating while thinking of you. I want to be inside you so desperately, honey.”_

Peter smiled at that.

“I need you to be, daddy.”

_“When I get home, I’m going to take you to bed and keep you there…”_

The boy felt himself becoming aroused at the imagery that the words brought to mind, and his hand slid down his belly and into his sweats.

“Then what, daddy?” he asked, almost breathlessly. “What will you do to me?”

Tony’s expressive eyes darkened with desire that even Peter could recognize.

_“Do you want me to tell you, honey? I could describe it to you… could help you take care of yourself, since I’m not there to do it for you. My beautiful baby… so hot… are you hard, baby? Eager for your daddy?”_

“Yes.”

_“Are you touching yourself?”_

“Yes.”

_“Show me.”_

The boy turned the phone toward his lap, pulling the blankets aside so Tony could see the bulge in his sweats – and the hand that was stroking himself under the fabric.

_“Pull your pants down, baby,”_ Tony said, hungrily. _“I want to see you.”_

Peter did as he was told, freeing his now achingly hard cock from his sweats.

“Daddy…”

_“You’re so beautiful, honey,”_ Tony murmured, his voice filled with desire. _“So sexy. Daddy wants to suck on his baby. Lick you, and tease you until you’re begging me to swallow you.”_

“Yes…” Peter was stroking himself, rhythmically, now, eyes closed since the phone was turned toward the hand that was on his cock, instead of on him. “I need that. I want my daddy…”

_“I’m going to get you in the bed and roll you onto your stomach,”_ Tony told him. _“Then I’m going to play with your perfect ass. I’ll slide my fingers into you and tease you, until you’re writhing with need, begging me to spread your legs and get between them…”_

“Oh…” He was so close, already. So anxious. “Please, daddy…”

_“You’re so beautiful, baby…”_ Tony crooned. _“So amazing. I’ll slide myself into you. I’ll fill you with daddy’s cock and hold you down and keep fucking you until you’re begging me…”_

That was all Peter needed. He stifled a moan and climaxed, splattering his hand and his t-shirt with hot cum as his hand worked his cock even harder, getting that last, incredible sensation of release as his hips jerked, and his heart pounded in his chest.

Tony cooed at him over the phone, encouraging him to keep going, telling him how sexy he looked, dirtying himself like he was. Peter finally fell still, and took a deep breath.

_“Let me see you, honey,”_ Tony told him.

The boy turned the phone back up so he could see the older man, and he smiled, shyly, his cheeks flushed.

“HI, daddy…”

_“You’re so beautiful, Peter,”_ Tony told him, softly. _“Did that feel good_?”

“Yes.”

_“I want you to take a hot shower and clean yourself up,”_ Tony told him. _“Then put on warm sweats and a long-sleeved shirt and get under your blankets – cuddle up with Bob and use him to keep you nice and warm.”_

“I will.”

_“Then go to sleep, and try to only think of good things. Can you do that, honey?”_

“Yes, daddy.”

_“Good. We’ll be home as soon as we can. I love you.”_

“I love you, too.”

_“Goodnight, baby.”_

The call ended and Peter moved the phone to the nightstand and stretched out for a moment, enjoying the aftermath of his climax, even though he’d become accustomed to having Tony doing all of the work, now. He grinned at that, and rolled out of the bed and headed for the bathroom to do as he’d been told.

He might even manage to sleep through the night.


	100. 100

A low growl woke Peter the next morning. He frowned, sleepily, and opened his eyes as he lifted his head. If not for the fact that he was cuddled right up against Bob, he never would have believed the sound had come from the mastiff, since he’d never heard him growl, before.

But he _was_. His head was up, his entire body – almost 200 pounds of dog – was tense and alert, and he was looking at the door to the room, which was open. A man was standing in the doorway, looking uncertain. He was in a SHIELD uniform, and probably only a few years older than Peter, himself. When the boy raised his head and followed Bob’s gaze toward the door, the guy smiled – looking nervous, although Peter could understand completely.

“Peter? I’m John Wilson. Director Fury is unavailable for a short time and has asked me to come by and make sure you didn’t need anything this morning.”

“What? Oh. No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

The man nodded, looking at Bob, who was still watching him, suspiciously. Clearly the mastiff was wary of strangers coming to close to Peter when the boy was asleep. Peter would have to remember to tell Tony. He’d get a kick out of that, most likely.

“They’ve started serving breakfast in the lounge – whenever you’re ready. It’s raining, again, and we didn’t know if you have a jacket that’s water-proof so I brought you one. For when you need to go outside with your dog.”

He hooked a black coat onto the inside of the doorknob.

“Thank you.”

He nodded and left, closing the door behind him and Peter put his head back down on the pillow, stretching under the blankets. He’d managed to sleep through the night, cuddled up against Bob’s side. Not that the dog was a complete substitute for _Tony_ , but he was warm, and big enough that Peter felt protected – even while he was sleeping.

Of course, the conversation that he’d had with Tony probably hadn’t hurt, either.

The mastiff stretched, too, and got up, looking pointedly at Peter before jumping down off the bed. Peter rolled his eyes and got out of bed, too. But before he wet to change into something a little more capable of handling the weather, he made sure to grab a couple of towels, as well. He’d need to dry the dog before allowing him into the compound.

>>><><<><><> 

They found him eating breakfast in the lounge, with Bob on the floor at his feet (all the way up to his _knees_ ) gnawing on a ham bone the kitchen helper had found for him.

Robert and Nick sat across from the boy, and the doctor noticed that the bandaged hand was the one Peter was using to hold his fork – albeit gingerly.

“We’re _not_ golfing in this weather,” he said to the boy. 

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “I was wondering.”

“Knowing my luck, we’d get hit by lightning,” Fury added. “So, _you_ have a choice.”

Peter looked at him, swallowing the mouthful of food he’d been chewing.”

“What?”

“The SHIELD guys are doing laser tag combat training this morning in the battle room and you can join one of their teams – basically, for you, it’ll just be a specialized game of laser tag with twenty of your closest friends all trying to kill you.”

“Or…?”

“You can wash dishes in the commissary.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“I’ll play laser tag.” He looked down at Bob. “But he’d be in the way. I could wash-“

“ _I’ll_ watch him,” Robert assured the boy. “We’ll spend the morning relaxing, right here, with a good book for me, and whatever it is he’s chewing on, for him.”

“Thanks.” Peter looked at Fury, hesitating. “Any news on what’s going on with the others?”

“Things are a bit tense,” Nick admitted with a shrug. “But they have to be, in his case. It’ll make the resolution come more quickly if they can draw out all factions at once.”

“They’re okay, though?”

“Yeah, Peter,” he said, nodding. “They’re a topnotch group – the whole reason I sent _them_ , and not a different team. They’re the best.”

The boy echoed his nod, feeling relieved.

“When does the laser tag begin?”

Fury looked at his watch.

“In about an hour and a half. You met Agent Wilson this morning?”

“Yes.”

“He’ll be captain of your team. Report to the briefing room outside of the battle room at 10am. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Don’t be late, or you might end up being the victim of friendly fire in there.”

Peter grinned.

“I won’t.”

>>>><<><> 

“Peter’s going to freak out.”

Tony scowled, looking at his face in the reflection of the metal arm of his suit. He had a cut lip, which was swelling even as he watched, practically, and a bruised cheek.

“Maybe I’ll just do a voice only call.”

“I can use some foundation to hide the bruise,” Natasha offered. “The _lip_ is going to show, though, no matter what you put on it.”

“Maybe some _lipstick_ ,” Rhodey suggested, smirking.

“Fire engine red has always been a favorite of mine,” Steve added.

The billionaire nodded to Romanoff, ignoring the others.

“Do what you can, please,” he requested. “I’ll take care of Peter.”

Natasha smirked, now, and gave him a knowing look.

“I _bet_ you will.”

He frowned, obviously not having a clue what she thought was so amusing, but didn’t ask. Instead, he held himself still while she used her makeup to cover the bruise that was forming.

“What are you going to tell him?” Steve asked, curiously, while they all watched.

“The truth,” Tony replied. “Just not _all_ of it.”

“Don’t tell him we’re almost ready to come home,” Bruce suggested. “He’ll get wired and won’t be able to sleep.”

“Good suggestion.”

Bruce was right, Tony knew. Proving that they were all getting to know the boy, by now. Which Tony approved of, completely.

>>><<>><<< 

“HI, Peter, how- what happened to your forehead?”

_“What happened to your lip?”_

That hadn’t taken long.

“I’ll tell you in a minute. What happened?”

_“I was playing laser tag with the SHIELD guys,”_ Peter told him, grinning excitedly at the thought of him doing something like that. _“And ran around a corner and right into the barrel of a gun.”_

“What?”

_“Not a real gun. Just one of the laser tag rifles,_ ” Peter told him, quickly.

“I thought you were going to go golfing today?”

_“It’s raining. What happened to your lip?”_

“I sort of was blown out of the sky.”

_“What?”_

“Only a _little_ ,” Tony said, quickly. “Don’t panic.”

_“What happened?”_

“We had a bit of a firefight,” the billionaire told him. “Or rather, I had a bit of a firefight. All of the weaponry these folks have – had – is ground to air, and I’m the only one in the air.”

“What am I?” Rhodey asked. “Chopped liver?”

Tony rolled his eyes and Peter smiled at the look – and the comment, that told him Tony wasn’t alone, just then.

“Fine, I had a little help.”

Rhodey snorted, and stuck his head in between the phone’s camera and Tony, taking the fore of the conversation.

“ _I_ was there, too, Peter,” he said. “And I didn’t get knocked out of the sky.”

“Because the bad guys always target the biggest threat, first,” Tony told the boy, pushing his friend’s face away. “And I’m fine. Okay?”

“ _Yeah_.” If he was well enough to banter with the others, then he was probably fine. _“I miss you guys.”_

His way of telling Tony – who was in a crowd – that he missed him.

“We miss you, too. What else did you do, today?”

_“I had lunch with Nick and Agent Coulson and then I spent the afternoon with Bob. We’re getting ready to have dinner, now, and then we’re going to play poker.”_

“Be careful. Nick’s pretty good. Don’t go losing all your money to him.”

Peter shook his head with a smile.

_“We’re playing for m &m’s.”_

“Good.”

_“Can I use your workroom, tonight?”_

“As long as you don’t stay up late, you can. You don’t need to ask, Peter.”

That made him happy, Tony could see.

_“Thanks. What are you doing?”_

“It’s the middle of the night, here. We’re going to grab a bite to eat. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

_“Okay. Tell everyone I said hello.”_

“I will. Don’t stay up late, tonight, okay?”

_“Alright. Be safe.”_

“You, too.”


	101. 101

“Are you going to bed?”

“I’m going to go check in with Peter, first.”

“Is _he_ in bed?” Natasha asked, looking a little tired. Which was exactly how Tony felt. It had been a long couple of days. “You know he doesn’t sleep well.”

“FRIDAY sent him to bed an hour ago,” he told her with a smile. “She turned off the displays in the lab and suggested he get some sleep.”

“Doesn’t mean he _listened_.”

“She says he did.”

His AU was, technically, everywhere, since it was networked into the security protocols in the compound. If there was a camera, FRIDAY was connected – and that meant Tony was, as well. None in the personal quarters, but all over the corridors and common rooms. Peter was last seen entering his rooms with Bob less than an hour ago, and wasn’t showing up in any of the common areas.

“Why don’t you stay with him?” she suggested, her eyes understanding. “He’ll stay in his bed with you there to keep him safe. Besides, he’ll probably want the company since you’ve been gone.”

“I might do that,” Tony told her. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Not _too_ early.”

“Right.”

They parted at the corridor that led to their individual quarters, and Tony stopped at his own, first, to take a quick shower and change into something more comfortable than the clothes that he’d been wearing the last 14 hours. He tossed his travel bag onto his bed and vanished into the bathroom, emerging half an hour later freshly washed and relieved to have had a chance to shave the unwanted stubble from his jaw and cheeks and to trim the neatly kept facial hair that he enjoyed seeing in his reflection.

Then he went to Peter’s rooms next door, and silently let himself in.

He smiled when he saw that Bob was sleeping beside Peter in the bed. The boy was cuddled up against the mastiff, his bandaged hand tucked between them and his face completely buried in the tawny colored fur. Bob opened an eye when Tony approached the bed, and in the near dark of the room Tony could hear the dog’s tail thumping the bed covers

“Shhh…”

He walked around to the other side of the bed and slipped his shirt off, although he kept his sweats on, and then slid under the covers, pressing up against the warm body that was so small compared to the huge dog he was up against. Peter was wearing sweats, too, as well as a sweatshirt.

Tony’s hand went under the heavy fabric to slide along the boy’s ribs and his face went into Peter’s neck.

“Hi, baby,” he whispered.

Peter came awake instantly, startled, despite Tony trying to be soothing.

“What-?”

“Shhhh…” Tony interrupted, bringing his other arm under Peter’s slight frame so he could wrap both arms around him. “It’s me, honey.”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah. We’re home.”

The boy rolled in his embrace, and in the dim light, Tony smiled at the surprise in his wonderful eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were on the way?”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“How’s your lip?”

“It’s fine. Let me prove it.”

He bent his head and kissed Peter, gently, and then with a little more insistence when the boy moaned and opened his mouth for the older man’s tongue. He tasted him; running his tongue along Peter’s mouth, and then his lips, individually, before he pulled back with a series of butterfly kisses along the corner of his mouth.

“I missed you,” Peter said, breathlessly.

Tony smiled at that.

“I missed you, too, honey. Go back to sleep, okay?”

He closed his eyes, almost automatically obeying him – he was tired, after all. But they opened, immediately, and Tony could see a hint of fear in his expression.

“You’ll stay?”

“Yes,” Tony promised him, guiding the boy’s head to his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay…” The billionaire felt Peter shift just enough to press kisses of his own against his jaw and neck before settling, once more. “I’m glad you’re home,” he said, simply.

“So am I.”

Tony closed his eyes, hand caressing the boy’s side, absently, and fell asleep almost instantly. Peter, bracketed between Bob behind him and Tony in front of him, was warm and protected. He took a little longer to sleep, but when he did, it was deep and dreamless.

><<><>>>>>< 

A hand sliding against his chest woke him, much later, and Tony sighed at the sensation. He blindly reached for hand, catching it and bringing it up to his lips to kiss the palm.

“Go back to sleep,” Peter whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to make sure you were real.”

“I’m _very_ real,” Tony promised him, opening his eyes so he could look at his baby. “How does your hand feel?”

He noticed Peter had reached out with the uninjured one – probably automatically.

“It’s okay. Robert said the stitches can come out in a few days. I heal pretty quick.”

“And the burn?”

“It’s pretty good. Doesn’t hurt.”

“Good.” He guided the hand that he was holding back to his chest. “Touch me, honey. I missed your touch.”

Peter smiled and did as he was told; running his fingertip along Tony’s chest and belly, bringing the fingers to tease the older man’s nipples, one by one, lightly, and then sliding along the wispy trail of hairs that channeled toward the waistband of his sweats. Tony froze, waiting with eager anticipation as the boy teased his lower belly, sliding his finger into his belly button before slipping his hand under Tony’s sweats and finding his already interested penis.

“ _Hello_ , daddy,” Peter whispered with a smile that lit up his expressive eyes. “What do we have here?”

Tony’s groan was muffled, only because they had to be quiet since they weren’t at home.

“Oh, fuck, honey,” he crooned. “Keep your hand right there. No matter what.”

“Right _here_?” Peter asked, his eyes alight with mischief, as his fingers closed around Tony’s shaft and he started caressing him from root to head, his thumb sliding along the slit and then finding the sensitive spot under the head. “Is this what my daddy wants? His baby to touch him?”

Tony trembled under the touch – and the words. It wasn’t dirty talk, really – but coming from Peter’s mouth and with the word _daddy_ , it absolutely was just that. He could feel the blood rushing to his groin, swelling his cock in Peter’s loving touch until it was throbbing almost painfully.

“Yes… please…”

His hips were moving, now, in time with Peter’s gentle strokes, forcing his cock through his fingers and against the boy’s palm. Peter tightened his hold just enough to give him more friction without causing pain.

“Daddy… you’re so beautiful. So hard for me.”

Tony groaned, wanting more.

“Suck me, baby,” he moaned. “Please? Put me in your mouth and take me.”

The boy pulled his hand from Tony’s pants and shifted, but before he could turn himself in order to put his head in the older man’s lap, Tony moved, too, taking Peter’s leg and swinging it over his head, bringing the boy into a position where he was actually straddling Tony, who immediately reached up and pulled the front of Peter’s sweats down, freeing the boy’s cock and proving that he hadn’t been immune to Tony’s pleasured noises.

Peter made an interesting noise when Tony’s hands moved to his hips to pull him down enough that the billionaire could pull his cock into his mouth, and he felt a tremor run through the boy even as he felt Peter’s mouth close over his cock.

Tony closed his eyes, concentrating on swallowing Peter’s cock deep into his throat, while trying to resist the urge to slam his hips up and drive his cock down Peter’s gullet. He hums, both to increase the pleasure he’s giving his young lover and to make sure to let Peter know he approves of what he's doing to him. He pulled back, his lips tightening, lightly, around just the head of Peter’s cock so his tongue can tease it, dabbing into the slit, playing with the underside, using all of his vast experience to show Peter just how much he missed the taste of him.

It worked, of course.

With a strangled cry, muffled by the fact that he refused to release Tony’s cock, Peter climaxed. His body tensed, his cock and balls tightened, and he knew Tony felt it coming by the way his hands tightened on his hips and his mouth opened wider, allowing Peter to thrust down, eagerly, feeding him the first spurt of salty cum.

Peter gurgled on Tony’s cock, which was twitching and moving as if it had a life of its own, just then. Still riding his orgasm, he fed Tony while his hand went to the older man’s balls and caressed them, triggering a climax of his own.

Tony’s cry of pleasure was equally hard to understand, his mouth being full of Peter’s cock, but it was more than enough. They both sucked the other through their mutual climaxes, pleasure causing them to tremble with release, and tongues taking care to finish the job properly.

Finally with a satiated sigh of utter bliss, Tony pulled Peter back off his cock and helped them boy turn around in his embrace, once more, reaching down and adjusting their clothing.

“That was so good, honey,” he murmured. “Did you like it?”

“Yes, daddy,” Peter told him, breathlessly. “Very much.”

“Me, too…”

They held each other, kissing and petting, lightly, as their pulses stopped racing, and their breathing steadied. Tony finally slid his fingers through Peter’s hair, lovingly.

“It’s still early, baby…” he crooned. “Go back to sleep for a little while. Okay?”

“You, too…”

“I will.”

Still holding the boy, he did just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, we're in the hundreds! thanks for all the comments and kudos - they're the reason I kept going and will continue to do so


	102. 102

The table was full when Tony and Peter arrived at breakfast the next morning, Bob ambling beside Tony. Natasha smiled up at the boy and gestured for him to take the chair next to her own, and he did, leaving Tony’s side for the first time since waking up with him sliding under the blankets with him.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Natasha told him, an arm going around his shoulders so she could pull him into a hug. “Did you miss us?”

“Yes.” He hugged her, tightly, to prove it. “Is everything alright?”

She nodded, brushing a kiss against his cheek as she let him go.

“It’s fine. We did what we needed to do and got out of there as soon as we could.”

He looked at the faces of the people around the table, but as far as he could tell, Tony was the only one with any injury.

“We’re all fine,” Sam told him, correctly interpreting the look. “Tony was the only one that took any kind of hit.”

“And they don’t call me marshmallow man,” the billionaire reminded him from the seat he’d taken beside Steve. “I’m _Ironman_ for a reason.”

“Besides, Tony taking the hits gave us a chance to flush the folks we were looking for,” Clint added. "That got us home sooner than I expected."

Peter looked at Bruce, who had accompanied the group, and the scientist understood the silent question.

“They didn’t _need_ me, so I just went along to buy the souvenirs.”

The boy smiled at that, thinking that he was kidding, but suddenly found several bags shoved over to him from every direction, until there was a small pile in front of him.

“What’s this?”

“We _missed_ you,” Natasha told him, smiling. “So we brought you presents.”

Tony smiled at the way Peter’s eyes lit up with happiness at the words, thinking again how very different it must be for him to have a room full of people who cared about him, when for a while there it had only been just Peter, all by himself. Never mind that it was the _Avengers_. It was people. He watched as Peter opened each bag, pulling out-shirts with witty German sayings on them, and a hat, a sweatshirt and several keychains and postcards – as well as all kinds of foreign treats and candies.

“Wow… thanks, guys.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam told him, reaching over and stealing a chocolate from his pile. “Now, what did _you_ do while we were gone?”

The boy looked over at Fury.

“Nick taught me how to play Pinochle, poker and blackjack.”

“In all fairness,” Fury said. “He already had the blackjack basics down. I just gave him pointers.”

“And I spent time with Bob, and some time in Tony’s workroom.”

“Sounds like a much more relaxing time than we had,” Steve told him.

“I need a few days off,” Clint said, stretching.

“Agreed.” Tony looked at Peter. “I know I promised we were going to come out here this weekend and go down to Dallas before you start schooling and your internship. Would you mind if we hold off on the trip until next weekend?”

“No. Of course not.”

Truth be told, he was a little tired from being worried.

“Good.” Tony looked at Natasha. “We’re heading back to the city today. Expect us next weekend, though, for the Dallas trip.”

“Sounds good.”

“Are you going to bring Bob?” Steve asked, curiously.

Tony looked at Peter, who shrugged.

“Monica could watch him – maybe.”

“If she won’t, you can leave him here,” Nick offered. “I’ll watch him for you.”

Nick, of course, knew all about Monica and Boomer by then. Midnight talks over cards will do that.

“We’ll see,” Tony said. “Thanks.”

“When are you leaving?” Natasha asked.

“Sometime before lunch, I think.”

“Then I call dibs on Peter for the morning.”

The billionaire frowned, even as the boy blushed with pleasure at being wanted and smiled.

“Can you call dibs on a _person_?”

“Are you going to argue with her?” Steve asked, pointedly.

He looked at the assassin and then shook his head.

“I am _not_.”

Romanoff smirked; it was good to be dangerous, sometimes. She looked over at Peter.

“You don’t mind spending time with me, this morning?”

“No.”

“Good.”

>>><><><>> 

“Do you have everything?”

“I think so.”

“We’re just going to leave Bob’s things here, okay? That way we’re not toting supplies for him back and forth.”

“Makes sense.”

Tony picked up Peter’s backpack and slung it over his shoulder, and Peter took the bag with all his Germany souvenirs.

“Happy just pulled up. Let’s go home.”

Peter nodded and they went out to greet the car, with Happy standing beside it talking to Fury.

“Thanks for hanging out with me,” Peter told the SHIELD director. “I had a good time.”

“You’re welcome,” Nick told him, sincerely. “We’ll put on a supply of m&m’s for our next poker tournament.”

The boy smiled and nodded his agreement, then followed Bob into the car.

“Gambling, Nick?” Tony asked, shaking his head. “ _Really_?”

“It’s _m &m’s_, Tony. Watch out, though; he’s _analytical_. If he learns how to count cards, he’s going to be dangerous.”

The billionaire nodded and offered Fury his hand.

“Thanks for keeping him company.”

“Anytime.”

Tony got into the car and settled beside Peter, and Happy shut the door.

_“Do we need to stop anywhere, boss?”_ he asked over the intercom.

Tony looked at Peter.

“Need anything?”

“No.”

“We’re good, Happy. Just home, I think.”

He turned off the intercom and leaned back, closing his eyes with a tired sigh.

“Are you too tired to hold me?” Peter asked, uncertainly.

He knew Tony hadn’t had a lot of sleep when he’d joined him in bed – and hadn’t slept on the flight home. He was probably wiped out. He certainly looked like he was.

Tony didn’t open his eyes, but he did smile and open his arms.

“I’m never too tired for you to be in my lap, honey,” he assured the boy as Peter climbed into his lap – and his arms. He tucked Peter’s head against his shoulder and turned his head to kiss him, softly. “You’re _beautiful_. You know that, right?”

Peter smiled at that and shivered, happily.

“I like it when you say things like that, daddy.”

“I know you do. But it’s true. Beautiful and smart, and amazing. I missed having you to hold any time I wanted to.”

“I missed you, too. So much.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I understand why you had to go. It just doesn’t make it easier, if that makes sense?”

“Yeah.” He turned his head, again, his lips tracing kisses against the corner of Peter’s mouth. “I’ll make it up to you when we get home, though…”

“How?”

“Remember the other night? When I was talking to you on the phone? Telling you what I wanted to do to you?”

Peter nodded.

“Yes.”

“That’s how, honey. When we get home, you’re going to take Bob for a walk, while I make us some lunch. And then you and I are going to vanish into the bedroom and I’m going to spend the day inside you.”

Peter shivered and ran his tongue along Tony’s neck and jaw.

“I like that idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want me to do to you, honey?” he asked, sliding his hand down between the two of them and resting it lightly on Peter’s lap. “Tell me what daddy should do.”

“Anything.”

“Be specific. Like I was with you. Say the words, brave boy.”

Peter flushed, as he usually did, and he closed his eyes, his face pressing against Tony’s neck. But he wanted to please him, and he knew that Tony wanted him to be able to tell him what he wanted.

“I want you to play with me, daddy,” he finally managed to whisper.

“With _this_?” Tony murmured, softly, sliding his hand along the denim that covered the slowly swelling front of Peter’s lap.

The boy shifted, restless and eager.

“Yes.”

“What else?”

Peter moaned. Tony was so very good at arousing him, and they both knew it.

“Can we take a bath?”

“Of course… I’ll wash my baby… slide my hands all over your body… play with your ass…”

“Yes… _please_ , daddy…”

He chuckled, and pulled his hand away, squeezing Peter, tenderly and brushing his lips against the boy’s temple.

“I’m sorry, baby… let’s not get you too excited, just yet. We’ll save it for later, okay?”

The boy nodded, turning his head and resting his forehead against Tony’s shoulder and trying to calm his ultra-tense body while clinging to Tony, tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” he whispered.

“So am I, honey.”


	103. 103

“ _Peter_!”

The boy turned his attention from the tree Bob was checking out when he heard his name. He smiled when he saw Monica walking toward him, Boomer at her side. Also with her was a very large young man – maybe a year or so older than Peter, but probably twice as big. He was blonde, had a very faint line of stubble along his jaw and was holding the leash of an incredibly _tiny_ dog.

“HI, Monica.” He bent and ran his hand along Boomer’s ears, cheerfully, and had just enough warning to move his hand when the chihuahua the boy was walking took a snap at him.

_“Buster!”_

The other boy reached down and picked the little dog up, frowning at it.

“That’s _not_ alright.” He looked at Peter. “Sorry about that. Did he get you?”

Peter shook his head.

“I was too fast for him.”

“This is my grandson, Tate. Tate, this is Peter. He lives above me.”

Making sure the little dog was firmly ensconced in one arm, Tate offered Peter his other hand with a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Peter. Grandma’s told me a lot about you – _and_ Bob, here. He’s a pretty good looking dog.”

“Yeah.” Peter smiled. “We got him from a rescue. Up by the Avenger’s compound, somewhere.”

Tate ignored the high-pitched growls coming from his little dog as he leaned down to pet Bob – who was also ignoring the little dog, in favor of sniffing rears with Boomer.

“Do you _really_ know Tony Stark?”

Peter nodded.

“Yeah.”

“He thought I was making it up,” Monica told Peter, rolling her eyes, amused. “I told him, but he didn’t believe me. I even showed him the pictures – and he accused me of photoshopping them.”

Peter smiled at that.

“No. I live with him,” Peter said – assuming correctly that Monica already would have mentioned that. “She’s right.”

“That must be pretty amazing. What’s he like?”

“He’s pretty great. And he’s a good cook.”

“Does he wear the Ironman suit around the apartment?”

Monica laughed, and put her hand on her grandson’s arm, scowling when the little dog growled at her.

“You threaten me _one more time_ , and I’ll have you neutered,” she told the dog, before turning her attention to Tate. “Peter has better things to do than answer a million questions about Tony,” she said. Then she looked at Peter. “Tate’s staying with me this weekend. If you’re free come down, sometime. Tony doesn’t have to come, too, but he’s invited – if he’s in the mood to be gawked at.”

Her grandson shrugged, but didn’t deny it.

“It was nice to meet you, Peter.”

“Yeah. You, too, Tate. I’ll come by sometime tomorrow, if that’s alright, Monica?”

“Come have lunch. Noon. We’ll lock Buster in the bathroom.”

“I’ll be there.”

They moved on, and Peter continued his walk with the dog. He didn’t hurry Bob – you couldn’t really hurry the easy-going mastiff, but he was eager to get done. Not only because it was chilly out, but Tony was waiting for him, after all. With lunch, and a hot bath.

>>><><><<> 

The apartment smelled amazing when Peter finally came out of the elevator with Bob. The boy glanced over and saw Tony at the kitchen island, his back to the entrance of the apartment, and squatted down to take Bob’s harness off, freeing the dog to go see what the billionaire was cooking him.

Peter took a little longer. He hung up the leash and harness and then took his new SHIELD jacket off and hung it next to Tony’s $1200 jacket and then kicked off his shoes, too, opting for just socks, although Tony didn’t have any such rule in place.

The older man was handing Bob a slice of turkey when Peter walked up and leaned against the island, and he smile at Peter when he looked over. There were sandwiches grilling and Peter’s stomach growled in interest.

“That took a while.”

“Yeah. I ran into Monica and her grandson. We stopped to talk.” He told him about the conversation – and the aggressive little dog. And the invitation to lunch the next day. “I accepted,” Peter said. “But I didn’t say _you_ were going to come, so you don’t have to feel like you’re getting roped into anything.”

“No, I’ll come, too,” Tony told him, cheerfully. “If nothing else, we’ll prove to him that Monica didn’t photoshop me.”

Besides, Tony loved being the center of attention. He couldn’t help himself.

“Noon.”

“Got it.” He smiled at his baby. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah. It smells good.”

“Grab a couple of plates, honey.”

They ate at the table, and Tony was – as always – pleased by Peter’s appetite. The boy wasn’t gaining a lot of weight, but it wasn’t from a lack of trying. Of course, he clearly had an incredibly active metabolism, and he was active and energetic, so that was probably working against any weight gain goals. Not that Tony wanted to change that. Especially the active part. He’d been away far too long, and was enjoying the anticipation of having Peter to himself the rest of the day.

He finished first, and watched with a completely different kind of enjoyment as the boy ate his third sandwich.

“Do you want another?”

Peter shook his head.

“No, daddy.”

“If you do the dishes, I’ll run us a bath.”

Which made the boy smile, as Tony had hoped it would.

“Alright.”

Stark got up, and leaned over, running a hand along Peter’s shoulder when he kissed the boy’s curls.

“Don’t be too long.”

He left, going into his bedroom and stopping long enough to change out of his clothes and into just a pair of pajama bottoms before starting the water in his tub. He sat on the edge, his hand idly caressing the growing bulge in his lap, while he watched the water running. For shits and giggles, he threw in some lavender bath bombs to give them bubbles when he turned on the jets to low.

“I’m done…”

Peter was leaning against the bathroom door, watching Tony and admiring just how incredibly handsome the man was. His body wasn’t sculpted like some – _Steve_ , for example – but he was in great shape and muscular. Perfect, as far as Peter was concerned. Especially when he turned to look at him, and his eyes went soft, like they almost always did.

“Come here, honey,” he said, moving his legs apart to give Peter an indication where he wanted him.

The boy stepped into that space. A space that was only for him, he knew. It made him feel special.

“Hi, daddy,” Peter said, putting his hands on Tony’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug.

Tony closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the boy’s belly, closing his eyes and he brought his arms around Peter’s hips, hooking his fingers in the belt loops of the boy’s jeans.

“You’re so amazing, Peter,” he murmured, softly. “How do you know when I need you to hold me? Is it one of those spider things?”

“It’s a coincidence,” was the response. “I just _always_ want to hold you.”

They were still for a long moment, simply holding the other and wallowing in the fact that neither was actually alone, any longer. Then Tony leaned back and reached for the button on Peter’s jeans.

“The water’s going to get cold,” he said, undoing them and pulling the zipper down. “We can’t have that.”

“No.”

Peter watched as Tony slid his pants down off his hips and he kept his hand on his shoulder for support as he stepped out of his jeans. Then his socks and his shirt followed, and Tony slid his hands along the boy’s sides, admiring his firm, young body.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. So wonderful.”

He smiled when he watched Peter’s cock twitch in response to the praise, and the shudders that went through the lean frame.

“Yes…”

“My perfect boy,” Tony crooned, leaning forward to breathe gently on the boy’s quivering cock. “Just right for me.”

Peter’s hips moved forward, almost of their own volition, silently begging Tony to take care of the problem that he was creating. The billionaire chuckled, and brushed a wet, sloppy, kiss against the head of Peter’s cock, slurping it into his mouth, obscenely, and sucking on it for a moment, before pulling back and releasing it with a moist pop.

“Come on, honey,” he murmured. “Let’s get into the water. I want you on top of me.”

Peter stepped back to allow Tony to stand up. He watched as he pulled his own pants down, revealing that teasing and playing with Peter had had an affect on him, as well. He was already standing at full attention. He stepped into the tub, and then guided Peter down on top of him, his hand immediately going to the boy’s ass.

“Daddy…”

Peter’s cock was trapped between them, hard and aching. Tony had made sure that his own was more toward the boy’s rear. He played with Peter, which almost automatically had the boy’s hips moving delightfully against him

“I want to be inside you, baby,” Tony told him, sliding his finger into the wonderfully tight ass. “But then you’re just going to keep me there, while I take care of you.”

It was clear that he didn’t, but Peter was enjoying what Tony was doing to him with those experienced fingers, and he wasn’t about to complain. He closed his eyes, leaning forward and raising his ass against Tony’s hand.

“Yes, daddy.”

“So beautiful, honey. My baby is amazing. You’re going to be such a good cockwarmer for daddy, aren’t you?”

“Yes…”

Tony smiled, and pulled his fingers from the boy’s tight hole.

“Raise up.”

His hands on Peter’s hips helped the boy as he was told, and then Tony guided the head of his cock into position and carefully lowered Peter onto him, watching his face as he impaled him.

“Is that good for you, baby?” he asked when Peter’s ass was flush against his pelvis and his weight was holding Tony inside him, wonderfully.

The boy nodded.

“It feels good.”

Tony smiled, and then reached down between them, his fingers curling around Peter’s rod.

“I’m going to take care of you, now, baby,” he said, silkily. “But try to keep me inside you. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Daddy loves his baby boy,” Tony crooned, his fingers siding along Peter’s length. “His handsome baby. Beautiful baby. So smart… so talented. You’re so beautiful, Peter.”

Each time he praised him, Tony also rewarded Peter with his touch. His hand stroking the boy, playing with the head of his cock and his shaft, feeling as it swelled under word and contact.

“Yes.”

“Tell me how much you love it…”

“I love it, daddy,” Peter whined. “I need it.”

“You’re getting off on it, aren’t you, honey? Love having daddy stroke you and talk dirty to you…”

“Yes. More. Please, daddy. Don’t stop.”

“I’m going to make my baby feel good,” Tony promised him, his hand moving faster, now, his touch constant as he stroked him, his eyes locked on the boy’s. “My baby… perfect. amazing. So brave.”

Peter came with a cry of release, tossing his head back and causing Tony’s cock to twitch – almost triggering his own climax. The billionaire caressed the boy’s cock as he was painted with ropes of hot cum, encouraging him with more dirty talk as he stroked him, his thumb rubbing along that ultra sensitive head.

“That’s so good, honey,” he told Peter, who moaned and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Tony’s cheek. “You did that just right. Did it feel good?”

“Yes. It was perfect.”

He chuckled, and hitched his hips, just a little, enjoying the sensation of filling Peter so completely.

“Good.”

“Now what?” Peter asked, realizing that Tony didn’t seem to be in any hurry to finish himself off inside him.

“Now I’m going to make you feel good, again. And again… until you just can’t go again.” He kissed Peter’s cheek, his hand once more beginning to move on him. “And then…? We’ll go once more. Of course.”

“Yes, daddy…”


	104. 104

They were both pruned and decidedly wrinkled by the time they pulled themselves out of the bathtub. The water never went cold on them; Tony would simply drain some out and add fresh, hot, water whenever it started to get too cool. Especially since Peter liked the water _hot_. He smiled at the boy when he pulled him into the shower from the bath. Mainly to get rid of any soap still on them, but also because he wanted one more chance to make sure Peter was warm, and a shower was the easiest way to do that.

“Did you like that, honey?” he asked, running a soapy towel along the boy’s chest.

He had put the bandaged hand in another plastic bag to protect the stitches, but Peter had told him that the burn didn’t hurt, at all, now, and he nodded, bracing himself with one of the safety bars along the wall. He was a little wobbly-kneed.

“It was _intense_.”

“How’s your rear?” he asked, sliding the washcloth over one cheek. “Sore?”

Tony had kept himself in Peter while he’d set the boy off four times. The first two times hadn’t taken long, but the third and then the fourth had taken a lot longer – and a lot more praise and dirty talk. Which had been fun for the billionaire as well as his young lover. Only then had he finally began moving himself inside Peter, his cock more than ready to explode by then; a combination of watching Peter climax repeatedly, and the fact that every time he _did_ , those tight inner walls would clench around Tony and send shockwaves of pleasure through him.

Needless to say, it hadn’t taken Tony long to empty himself inside the boy.

And even then, he hadn’t pulled out, immediately, instead keeping himself inside him until it was simply impossible to stay where he was.

“A _little_ ,” Peter admitted. He smiled. “It was worth it, though. Having you there like that for so long.”

“You liked being my cockwarmer?”

“Is that what it’s called?”

“Yes.” He turned the spray onto Peter, to wash the soap off. “It can be in your mouth, or in your ass… either way, though, it still qualifies as such.”

“I liked it.”

“So we could do it again, sometime?”

“Yes. _All_ the time.”

Tony chuckled and kissed the boy, sliding his hand along his flat stomach and down to his groin. There wasn’t even a twitch of interest when he fondled Peter, which meant that he’d done his job, correctly – and thoroughly.

“We’ll give you a rest for a while, honey,” the older man said, amused. “Speaking of rests, I could use a nap.”

Hot water and hot sex would tire anyone out. 

“Sounds good, daddy.”

Peter took the cloth from Tony and used it to wash him, as well. He took his time, simply enjoying that he could touch him anytime and anywhere – at least, while they were _home_ , he could. It wasn’t _everything_ , but it was more than enough for Peter.

When they were done, Tony dried them both, taking charge of Peter like any good daddy would. He took extra time with those curls that he loved so much; drying the boy's hair and then brushing it out, his expression tender while he tried to gain the upper hand on a cowlick at the boy’s forehead Finally, he gave up and brushed a tender kiss against his lips.

“Let’s go get some rest,” he whispered into Peter’s mouth. “I want to play some more, after dinner, and we’re going to need the energy.”

Which made Peter shiver more than the cool air hitting his warm skin as they left the bathroom. He bundled under the blankets, immediately, trying to keep from losing too much of the heat he’d garnered in the tub and then the shower. Tony left the bedroom for just a moment, then returned and joined him under the blankets, gathering Peter protectively in his arms.

“I missed you, daddy,” Peter mumbled, closing his eyes and sliding one of his legs between Tony’s.

“I missed you, too, honey.”

They were silent for a while, and Tony was just starting to drift to sleep when Peter spoke, again.

“Daddy?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can people do the… um… cockwarming thing while they’re sleeping?”

The billionaire chuckled, sleepily.

“No. If I tried, I’d slide out when I fell asleep.”

“Oh.”

“If you want something inside you, honey, we can get you a toy. It would be like the plug, only it could be bigger or longer, if you _want_. I’d still play with you before I took you.”

“No…” he sighed, shifting just a little. “I don’t want a toy. Just _you_.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Alright.”

>>><<><>><> 

“I think I might have created a _monster_ …”

Peter blushed, and buried his face into Tony’s shoulder, but he didn’t deny it.

“It’s okay?”

Tony laughed, outright, moving the blanket covering them aside, and looking down.

When they’d woken from their nap, it had been fairly late. By default, Tony took care of making their dinner, while Peter walked Bob to allow the mastiff some fresh air – and also to allow _Peter_ some, Tony decided. It was all well and good to be inside on a rainy day, and even better to be in _bed_ , but Peter needed to move around a little, too.

By the time they returned, a little cold since the temperature was definitely beginning to drop, Tony had burgers on the grill and French fries in the air cooker. They ate their dinner, spent some time playing with Bob, who actually knew how to fetch, they discovered, but had a very short attention span. Then they’d done the dishes together, loading the dishwasher and talking about the school syllabus that they were going to start Peter on that coming Monday.

When the dishes were done, however, and Tony settled himself on the couch, Peter had vanished for a moment and had returned with a blanket to cuddle under and had shyly handed Tony a tube of lube.

“What do you have in mind, honey?” the older man had asked with a tender smile, even while his cock twitched, interested.

“More of what we were doing…”

“Yeah? Which part?” He slid his hand along Peter’s arm. “Tell me what you want to do, brave boy.”

Which had made Peter blush.

“Thecockwarmingthing.Please?”

“You want me to slide my cock into your ass?” Tony asked him, taking the lube.

Peter had nodded.

“Yes, daddy.”

“And _keep_ it there?”

“Yeah. Please?”

Tony had nodded, pleased with the boy for being assertive enough to tell him what he wanted – not to mention delighted at the thought of spending the evening much the same way he’d spent the afternoon.

“You’re not too sore from earlier?”

“No.”

“I’m going to watch a movie,” Tony had said. “It’s not going to be all about having me stroking you…”

“ _Please_ , daddy…?”

The brown eyes won out, of course. And the fact that Tony was being talked into something that he absolutely wanted to do.

“Get me hard, honey.”

Peter had gone to the floor between Tony’s knees and had pulled his cock from his sweats, immediately. Tony groaned and slid his fingers through the boy’s hair while he watched him suck on him, licking and teasing and stroking his cock, preparing it so that he could have what he wanted. The billionaire was so entranced by the sight that he almost came, instead of pushing Peter back, gently, once he was throbbing and eager.

“You’re so amazing, baby,” he crooned as he slid Peter’s sweats off, and then brought the boy into his lap, straddling him. He didn’t slide into him, immediately, of course. He teased Peter’s ass as he lubed him, stretching him and toying with his prostrate, making him squirm with pleasure. Another reward for being so willing. “Such a perfect ass. Attached to a beautiful boy.”

Peter squirmed, his face buried in Tony’s neck, concentrating on what was being done to him and enjoying it. When Tony finally took his hips and guided him down onto his cock, Peter had moaned, softly, and had settled with a shudder of pleasure. Especially when he discovered that if he moved his hips just right, the shaft of Tony’s cock would press against that spot inside him that felt so good.

“Hold right there, honey,” Tony told him, draping the blanket over them to keep the boy warm. “Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

They settled, then, with the lights off and the TV on, watching a movie. Occasionally, Peter would grind his hips, pressing himself just right, and sometimes Tony would run his hand along Peter’s hip, or even between the to caress him into hardness before moving his hand once more. Peter would whine when he retreated, but Tony would simply settle him with a gentle touch, or a kiss, and remind him that his only responsibility was to do what he was doing.

“It’s my responsibility to make you writhe, honey,” Tony murmured in his ear. “Don’t worry; you’re going to love your reward.”

Peter had trembled, and turned his attention back to the movie.


	105. 105

“Hey, Peter, ready to start school, again?”

“Hi, Happy. Yeah. It’s exciting.”

The driver grinned, giving the boy a quick once-over as he was getting Bob into the back of the car.

“You’re certainly looking better than you did when we found you, my boy.”

Which made Peter smile, too.

“I _feel_ better.”

Happy reached out and tousled his hair and then urged him into the car, turning to Tony.

“He looks good, doesn’t he, boss?”

Tony nodded.

“He looks _great_.”

Of course, they’d had a relaxing weekend, and that certainly helped. Aside from a few hours on Saturday to spend socializing with Monica and her grandson in her apartment, he and Peter had spent the time together. On the couch, on the balcony, in bed or in the tub. Wherever they were, they were constantly touching, reminding the other that they were there, and cherished and oh my fucking God, so _loved_.

They made cookies to take to Monica’s, and they’d turned out well. Peanut butter, so she could share with Boomer, Bob and even little Buster, who had tried to take a piece of Tony’s hand instead of the cookie and had found himself wearing a muzzle for his troubles.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Tate had apologized, quickly. “He was abused and beaten when they rescued him. We’re still working on socializing. Did he get you?”

“No.”

It was a bit amusing to the billionaire, when Monica took some pictures of Peter and Tate, together, to compare the two boys. Tate was almost a foot taller than Peter, even though he was only a year older, it turned out. He was also more than a hundred pounds heavier, and it was all muscle. He was a good-hearted guy, though, and was quick with a smile, and he was nice to Peter, even though it had to seem to him that he could break the younger boy in half like a toothpick if he’d wanted to.

“Where do you go to school?” Tate had asked.

“Midtown. But I’m switching to homeschooling, now. You?”

“Corbin. It’s a private school in Hackensack. We’re on break, so I wanted to spend time with gramma.”

“Tate’s being peppered with scholarship offers from pretty much every college in the country,” Monica had said, proudly.

“ _Football_?” Tony guessed, looking at the size of him.

The boy had smiled, and shaken his head.

“Violin.”

When their dogs were brought into the pictures, it was even more comical to compare them. Tate, the big bruiser, had a dog that literally weighed less than Bob’s _poop_ , where Peter had the monster of a dog who outweighed him by almost as much as Tate did.

The boy had been excited – of _course_ – to meet Tony, and when he’d shyly asked for a picture with him, Tony had agreed, and taken several with him; the boy being the recipient of the fact that Peter really liked Monica and she was so good with him.

“We’ll do it with me in the suit, sometime,” Tony had promised. “Not _today_ , though.”

“Thanks. Can I post them on my Facebook?”

Stark had winked.

“I’d be disappointed if you _didn’t_.”

But now, it was Monday, and it was time for them to get Peter on track. And Tony was looking forward to it. He settled in the seat beside the boy, but as soon as the car started and pulled out of the garage, he patted his leg and the boy smiled and climbed into his lap, being careful not to wrinkle him as he rested against his chest and put his head on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, daddy. _Excited_.”

“Good.”

He cuddled his baby during the drive, and made sure not to arouse the boy with any specific touch, although it was always tempting to do just that when he had Peter in his arms. When they arrived at the tower, a doorman opened the back of the car and was startled when Bob emerged – although the man was professional enough to hide it, for the most part.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” he said, politely, as Tony followed with the dog’s leash, which he handed over to Peter as soon as the boy was out of the car, as well.

“Good morning, William.”

They didn’t stop for small talk, though, as much as Peter was always willing to. They crossed the lobby, eyes following them from all sides, and went to the elevator.

“You’re sure you want me in your office?” Peter asked, uncertainly, as they came out a few minutes – and several floors – later. “I think it’ll be a distraction.”

“Yeah. At least for the first couple of days, okay? Long enough to get you into a groove. There’ll probably be a lot of questions, and I don’t want you to have to come looking for me if you hit a wall.”

During the previous week, Tony had asked Pepper to make sure Peter had a place to study and do his schooling. A place in Tony’s office. She’d done a good job, he decided, when he and Peter walked in and looked around.

A corner of Tony’s expansive office now held a tasteful desk that wasn’t quite as big or impressive as the billionaire’s, but was sleek and modern enough that it fit into the décor as if it had been originally designed to be there. A laptop and several notebooks, paper and pens were all neatly arranged on the black onyx surface, along with a display that could be moved to whatever position would be most comfortable for Peter - his interface with FRIDAY, who was really going to be his instructor in all things curricular. The chair was comfortable and leather, and Peter smiled, because it was the same as Tony’s, basically.

“What do you think?” Tony asked him, noticing that Pepper had made plans for Bob, as well. Beside Peter’s desk was another dog bed, a self filling water dish and a large chew bone. “Not bad, huh?”

“No, it’s great.”

A bit _much_ , of course, but Peter already knew that Tony didn’t do anything discreetly if he didn’t have to.

“Alright, honey,” he said, crouching down to get Bob out of his harness. “The classes are on the display when you’re ready. You can do the work in any order that you want, and we’ll see how it works out, today, and adjust whatever we need to. Sounds good?”

“Yes. Did I say thank you, yet?” Peter asked, just a little overwhelmed by everything the man was doing for him.

Tony shook his head, ruffling Bob’s ears and looking up at the boy.

“You probably _have_ , but you don’t need to. You know that, right?” he stood, and Peter moved into his arms. “Besides,” Tony told him, ready to deflect the super emotional feelings like he normally did when he was feeling a little overwhelmed, also. “I’m doing this for _me_ , too, you know? We’ll get you educated, get you a good job, and then I can retire, and you can be my sugar daddy. See how that works?”

The boy laughed into his shirt and then pulled away, well aware that Tony hadn’t locked his office – even though FRIDAY could remotely do it for him, and probably _had_.

“I’ll be the best sugar daddy, ever,” he assured Tony, cheerfully, sliding his hand playfully along the billionaire’s chest. “I’ll buy my baby whatever he wants, and take him on expensive trips – all around the world. Give him anything that he asks me for...”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“What if he doesn’t ask for anything?” Tony asked him, pointedly.

“Then he probably doesn’t _need_ anything.”

The older man rolled his eyes, and pressed a kiss against his temple before turning him toward the desk.

“Get started, honey. I want you to have something to show for the morning by the time recess comes around.”

“I get recess?” Peter asked, surprised. “Do they _do_ that in homeschooling? They don’t do it in high school.”

“Homeschooling is better that way,” Tony told him with a shrug, walking toward his own desk. “Besides, you’ll love recess. I promise you.”

“Oh, _daddy_ …” Peter shivered, despite the sweatshirt he was wearing, and sat down and turned on the display.

School with Tony was going to be much better than public school.


	106. 106

A balled up piece of paper hit Peter in the side of the head, drawing his attention from the display in front of him. He looked over at the direction the paper had come from, and saw Tony sitting at his desk, looking away from him and whistling, innocently.

“There's no one else _in here_ , you know?” the boy reminded him. “It doesn’t matter how innocent you act, when you’re the only one that could have thrown it.”

“Thrown _what_?”

Peter rolled his eyes, amused.

“Whatever.”

He looked back at the display, picking up where he’d left off.

“What are you studying?”

“History.”

“Anything in particular?”

“It’d be hard to learn if all the display said was ‘ _it happened’_ , but didn’t tell me what _it_ was…”

Tony smiled.

“You’re in a cheeky mood, aren’t you, honey?”

Peter didn’t deny it. He nodded.

“It feels good to be learning, again.”

“Good. Do you need anything?”

“No. FRIDAY has it all really organized for me. The syllabus is pretty straightforward. I’ll do history and writing, this morning.”

“Writing?”

“That’s what it says.”

“What kind?”

“I haven’t looked, yet. It’s still _history_ , right now.”

“FRIDAY? What’s Peter doing for writing, today?”

_“The assignment is an essay. Freeform style, with no particular theme. 5K words.”_

“So he can write about anything, or anyone?”

_“Yep. The requirement is designed to allow the student to adjust the flow of his essay to his own comfort level.”_

“Well, that’ll be fun.”

Peter shrugged, but even though he looked like he was annoyed with being assigned an essay, he wasn’t. He was excited. He was learning.

“Five thousand words about what I want to be when I grow up.”

“What _do_ you want to be when you grow up?”

“An Avenger?”

Which made Tony smile.

“ _Or_ …?”

“A scientist, somewhere. Working with the newest, coolest, cutting-edge tech.”

“You’re surrounded by it, now.”

“I _know_.” He smiled. “And I _love_ it. Everything about it. Even if I’m not officially working with it and all it’s doing is assigning me essays and history quizzes.”

He meant FRIDAY, of course. The AI was amazing, and Peter was nerd enough to know that, and appreciate just how complicated she was. And how brilliant Tony was to have created her.

Tony got up from his desk and moved over to Peter’s, leaning on it and brushing a kiss against his cheek.

“I have a meeting. You’re good?”

“Yeah.”

“Need me to bring you back anything?”

“Nope. Thank you, though.”

“Anything for my sugar daddy in training.”

Tony left the office, and Peter watched him go. Then smiled and turned his attention back to his assignment.

>>><><>><>> 

“How’s it going?”

Tony shrugged.

“Peter’s staring at a display and Bob is snoring so loudly I can’t concentrate. But he’s having a good time.”

_“Bob?”_

The billionaire rolled his eyes, amused. Pepper loved doing that to him, he knew. Which was fine; someone had to keep him grounded, after all.

“Smart ass. Peter. Said he’s happy to be learning, again.”

“I can understand that.”

“Yeah. So can I.”

“He’ll probably learn _faster_ ,” she added, as they walked toward the conference room. “Knowing that he has a meal to come home to and a place to sleep and doesn’t have to worry about any of that.”

“That’s a good point.” Tony hadn’t thought about it like that, but she had to be right. “Bruce is in, today?”

“As far as I know, he hasn’t called saying otherwise.”

The scientists didn’t check in with her, after all. But she had made a point to tell one of her assistants if for some reason Banner hadn’t shown up to the tower.

He might have commented further, but they’d reached the conference room, and everyone was waiting for them. Tony took a seat and turned most of his attention to the meeting and the subject at hand, while the rest was thinking of recess.

He was pretty sure he’d be ready for a break, too. A far cry from the workaholic that he once had been.

>>>>><><>> 

When he walked into his office more than an hour later, Peter was still at his desk, hand swiping occasionally as he worked his way through the information on the display.

“FRIDAY, lock down my office, please.”

Peter looked over, startled by his voice.

“How was your meeting?”

“Boring. What are you learning?”

“Aztecs.”

“Yeah? Anything interesting?”

“They were pretty high tech, themselves.”

_“The allotted time for history is expired for the day, Peter,_ ” FRIDAY announced. “ _We can switch to your essay whenever you’re ready.”_

“Peter’s going to take a break, first,” Tony told his AI. “He can start again after recess.”

The boy turned the display off.

“I should take Bob out for a walk,” he said, looking up at the billionaire, who was now standing beside him.

They both looked down at the dog, who was asleep in his bed, head propped on the edge, with drool trailing down to the chew bone he’d fallen asleep gnawing on.

“I think he’s fine, honey.” Tony put a hand under Peter’s elbow, bringing him to his feet. “ _I_ want to spend recess with you.”

The boy smiled; whether from the idea that Tony wanted to be with him, or the thought of what Tony might want to do _to_ him, or _with_ him, it didn’t matter to the older man. He just loved the expression on Peter’s face, just then.

“I’d like that, daddy…” Peter murmured, tucking himself into Tony’s embrace.

“Mmmm… what do you want from me, right now, pretty boy?” he asked, his lips buried in Peter’s curls.

“I want you to do whatever you want to,” Peter told him, shivering. “Not because I don’t want to say it… I just don’t want to choose.”

“If I do, then tonight, _you_ have to tell me what we’re going to do.”

“Alright.”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Tony admitted, sliding his hands down the back of Peter’s jeans and cupping his ass, pulling him tightly against him. “I have a meeting in half an hour. But I want to be inside you…”

“Mmm, yes, daddy.”

“Come here, baby,” Tony murmured, moving away and letting Peter go, long enough to lead him over to the sofa. To the back of the sofa. “Lean over it, honey,” he said, pushing on Peter’s back, guiding his chest and stomach against the cool leather. “Okay like that?”

“Yes.”

The boy couldn’t see what Tony was doing, but he felt him reach around him and undo his jeans, and pull them down, along with his boxers.

“You’re so beautiful…” Tony said, reaching around Peter to stroke his cock, feeling him swell in his hand and sliding the other hand under the boy’s sweatshirt, caressing his back and shoulders. “So delicious, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes, daddy,” he moaned, his hips moving, gently – for now – in time with the pace of Tony’s actions. “Please, daddy. Please…”

“Oh, honey…” He was so good at that, Tony knew. Just his voice, begging so softly, pleading with only the _daddy_. It was enough to make Tony’s insides burn with need for the boy. He let go of Peter’s cock and pulled his hand from under the sweatshirt. Eager, now, he undid his own slacks, allowing them to fall to the floor, pooling around his shoes. His boxers followed, and Tony pulled a small pack of lube from his pocket and ripped it open, smearing his hand and then sliding between Peter’s ass cheeks. “So perfect, baby.”

Peter whimpered as the first finger slid into him, teasing and caressing, and stretching him. He felt Tony searching, and then moaned when the older man’s finger found his prostrate and set him to burning.

“Daddy… _oh, daddy_ …”

He ground back against the hand that was causing such wonderful sensations to course throughout his entire body, and his cock smeared precum on the back surface of the sofa as he tried to find some friction – _any_ friction – to give him release.

“My baby,” Tony crooned, a third finger joining the other two already taking care of preparing Peter. “You’re beautiful, baby. Wonderful, and amazing and so fucking perfect.”

Peter shuddered, and Tony’s hand moved away from him, the head of his slicked cock finding its goal and sliding against Peter’s puckered hole.

“Are you ready, baby?” he murmured, poised at the entrance. “Daddy wants to fuck his baby so hard.”

“Please…” Peter pressed back against him, hands grasping for purchase on the smooth leather but not finding any. “Daddy…”

Tony shoved himself into the boy. Two thrusts found him balls deep inside Peter, who groaned in response to the invasion and arched his back, an arm coming up to reach for Tony, who leaned over Peter’s back. He kissed the boy’s ear, feeling his hand brushing against his jaw.

“You’re so tight, honey,” he said, beginning to thrust into him; harder, and faster. “You’re so perfect for me. How did I get so lucky to have someone as amazing as you for my own? Oh baby, I love being inside you.”

Peter moaned, but was too breathless to answer the purely rhetorical question. He felt Tony’s hand wrap around the shaft of his cock, finally, and it only took a few minutes before the boy was climaxing, smearing the back of the couch and Tony’s hand with his release.

_“Daddy!”_

“I’ve got you, baby,” Tony cooed, hips thrusting, eagerly, driving himself deep, waiting a moment, and then repeating the motion. “Cum for daddy, Peter… make me cum for you.”

The boy didn’t answer, but Tony wasn’t waiting for a response. He was working himself up, and Peter’s muscles were clamping down on him as he climaxed, which set the billionaire off, as well. With a grunt, Tony drove himself deep, once more, and then climaxed, filling Peter deliciously. His arms went around the boy, holding tightly to him as they both trembled with their release for several long minutes.

Finally, Tony groaned, turning his head and brushing Peter’s cheek.

“Are you alright, honey?”

“Yes… I just need a minute.”

The older man chuckled and slid out of him, but continued to hold tight.

“We have all the time you need,” he assured him. “I have to tell you, though; I love recess much more than I remember loving it as a kid.”

Peter smiled, turning his head for a kiss.

“I do, too, daddy.”


	107. 107

After lunch, Tony escorted Peter up to Bruce’s lab, even though the boy knew where it was and didn’t really need the assist. They tapped on the door, and Bruce looked up from a display.

“Hey, there’s my new lab assistant. Where’s Bob?”

“Tony’s going to watch him while I’m here with you.”

“We assumed that he’d pretty much be in the way.”

“Yeah, probably.” He tossed Peter a white lab jacket and the boy put it on over his sweatshirt – and realized that it had his name embroidered over the pocket.

“Wow, thanks, Bruce.”

The scientist smiled, looking over at Tony – both of them pleased to see him so cheerful.

“It’s self-defense,” he said. “Otherwise you’ll be stealing mine, all the time.”

“You got him, then?” Tony asked.

“We’ll be fine,” Bruce assured him.

“Come to my office when you’re finished,” the billionaire told Peter. “If I’m not there, I’ll be in my workroom.”

“Okay.”

Tony looked at Bruce.

“He gets a break; don’t forget. There are child labor laws.”

“I’m not going to work him to death, Tony. He’ll be fine.”

“I know. I’m just reminding you…”

“Get out, before you end up washing petri dishes.”

“I’m gone.”

They watched him leave.

“How was your first day of school?”

“I was good.”

Banner handed him a tablet.

“A little more studying for you. These are the chemicals we’re going to be dealing with – for the most part – and I want to make sure you’re passingly comfortable with the reactions and antireactors that would be involved if there’s a spill. Read it and familiarize yourself with it, okay?”

“Yeah.”

The boy took the tablet and went to sit down, while Bruce turned his attention to the display, once more, but he had a long list of mundane assignments Peter could help him with. They didn’t make up the job for the boy – he just happened to be the best fit for it.

>>><<><><>> 

_“Peter’s looking for you.”_

Tony looked up, startled.

“What? _Already_?”

_“It’s after 5 o’clock.”_

He looked at his watch.

“Sonofabitch…” it wasn’t that uncommon for him to lose track of time, but he was surprised that Bruce and Peter had worked so late. He’d expected Peter to come find him much earlier. “Did you tell him where I was?”

_“Of course.”_

That was proven a few minutes later when there was a knock on the door, which opened immediately – since FRIDAY didn’t need Tony to tell her to allow the boy into the workroom.

He smiled at how happy Peter looked, and the door closed behind the boy, locking, which meant that Tony could open his arms in invitation. Peter slid into the embrace, easily, and buried his head against Tony’s neck, his lips brushing the delicate skin there, which made Tony shiver.

“Hi, daddy.”

“Hey, beautiful boy. Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah. Bruce is studying gamma particles in neutrinos to see if they can slip between dimensions.”

Tony chuckled, and slid his hands along Peter’s hips, into the back of his jeans to cup his ass – one of his favorite places on the boy to hold him.

“Is it weird that that statement just turned me on?” he asked. “You’re so smart, honey. I love that about you.”

Peter trembled, even though Tony hadn’t actually been trying to arouse his praise kink. It was just that easy to trigger. He found himself responding to the boy’s desire, and had to force himself to pull away – otherwise Peter was going to find himself bent over the table, after all.

“We should get our dog home and get some dinner made,” Tony said, cupping Peter’s cheek with his palm. “You have school tomorrow, too.”

The boy nodded, stepping back to give Tony room to stand up.

“But nothing with Bruce. Not until Thursday. He’s going to be out of town to do some research, and doesn’t need me to do anything in his lab while he’s gone.”

“Then you can decide if you want to come in with me, or do your school at home, tomorrow.”

Peter leaned against the worktable while Tony woke Bob up and got the dog’s harness on him.

“If I work at home, I’ll miss _recess_.”

Which made the billionaire chuckle.

“Recess will vary day by day, anyway, honey – according to my schedule. So don’t let that be a deciding factor, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Do you know how wonderful you are, Peter Parker?” Tony asked him, his fingers itching to find the boy’s curls.

Instead, he tightened his hold on Bob’s leash.

Peter blushed.

“Thank you.”

“Let’s go home, honey. I’m hungry. You can tell me about what Bruce had you doing, on the way.”

>>>><><><<<<> 

BY the time Happy dropped them in the garage, Tony had heard about ever beaker, dish and pipette that Peter had washed, sanitized or stocked that afternoon. It was a good thing that the boy didn’t mind menial labor, because as far as Tony could tell, being Bruce’s assistant was going to come with a lot of washing and organizing.

He knew Peter didn’t mind, though, because apparently Bruce had been thorough about explaining to Peter what the experiments were that he was working on. He was clearly doing the same thing with Peter that Tony did when he had the boy in his workroom; taking advantage of the kid’s innate intelligence to use him as a sounding board for ideas.

And why not?

“You walk Bob,” Tony said, as they got out of the car. “I’ll go start dinner.”

“Okay.”

Tony watched as they headed out the street entrance for the garage, then waved to Happy and headed for the elevator.

>>><<>><<<> 

Peter had barely walked out onto the sidewalk with the mastiff when he saw that Tate was standing in a small grassy area beside the street. He had Buster’s leash in his hand and the little dog was busily checking out a tree. The larger boy smiled a greeting when Peter and Bob walked over, but Buster just regarded the boy and dog with equal suspicion.

“Hey, Pete.”

“Hi, Tate.”

“Did you just get home? Was that Mr. Stark’s limo that I saw pull in?”

“Yes – to both. We just got done at the tower.”

Monica’s grandson shook his head, bemused.

“That’s crazy. You _know_ that, right? You living with Ironman and working and schooling in the tower like that.”

“Yeah.” He smiled, though, because yes it was crazy, but it was great. “I might not go in tomorrow, though. Since Bruce – he’s the scientist who I assist – is going out of town, I’m not needed in the lab in the afternoon. I could do my classwork at home and not be a distraction for Tony, that way.”

“Yeah. _I’d_ be distracted…” the boy flushed when he realized what he’d said, and smiled, awkwardly. “You know, because of _Bob_ and everything.”

Peter nodded, oblivious.

“He’ll get more _done_ if I stay home, so I might.”

“Well, if you do, maybe you and I can go do something in the afternoon – when you’re done with the school thing? Gramma is going to the flower shop with Boomer, so I’ll be rattling around the apartment alone. Unless I go with her – but there is only so much I want to know about spider plants and roses.”

“Alright. I’ll let you know,” Peter said, nodding his agreement.

“Text me?”

“Sure.”

Peter pulled out his phone, but before he could ask for Tate’s number the other boy took his phone and hit the dial keypad, tapping it. A few moments later the phone in his pocket rang.

“Now you have my number,” he said, handing the phone back.

“Yeah.” Peter looked down at Bob, who was clearly done sniffing what little there was to Buster and was ready to move on and get finished with their walk. “I’ll let you know,” he repeated.

“Okay.”


	108. 108

Tony had changed out of his suit and was in sweats and a t-shirt and was browning beef when Peter and Bob returned to the apartment. The entire place smelled great. The boy was in the habit of leaving his shoes at the elevator near Bob’s leash and harness, by now, so he walked over in sock-covered feet, to lean on the island and watch, while Bob went to his food dish and started in on his own dinner without waiting for an invitation.

“What are we having?” Peter asked, curiously.

“Tacos. They’re quick and easy.” He smiled. “Which will leave plenty of time for daddy to play with his beautiful boy.”

Peter blushed, pleased.

“Can I help?”

“With dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Sure. Go pull a couple of tomatoes out of the fridge and cut them into chunks. They don’t have to be pretty.”

Peter did what he was told, feeling pretty pleased with himself as he found a small cutting board and a knife and took his place next to Tony on the _cooking_ side of the kitchen island. He’d had school, and had then spent time with Bruce in his lab – and was getting _paid_ for it – and now he was helping to cook dinner with Tony. That wasn’t even counting _recess_ – which was always satisfying to the boy. He loved having Tony inside him, so excited, and hard, and just because of Peter.

It was a pretty good day, all around.

“I think I’ll stay home, tomorrow,” he said as they brought all the items for their meal to the table, along with a cola for Peter and a beer for Tony. “I saw Tate while I was out walking Bob, and he said _he’s_ going to be home, too, since Monica’s going to the flower shop, so maybe we can do something together.”

“Sound like a good idea,” Tony said, approving of the idea of Peter making a friend his own age. “You watch that _ankle biter_ of his, though. I don’t want you to lose a finger.”

“Buster was abused,” Peter reminded him. “He’ll get better once he realizes that no one wants to hurt him.”

“I’m just saying, honey, I don’t want you to let him bite you. Okay?”

“I won’t.”

Tony smiled at the boy, watching with approval as he made his way through several tacos.

“Did you have a good day, sweetheart?”

“It was great.”

“Best part?”

“ _You_.”

He rolled his eyes, hiding the fact that he was thrilled with the reply.

“Be more specific, Peter,” he said, taking his napkin and wiping some sour cream from the boy’s bottom lip. “How do I make tomorrow as good as today?”

Peter’s smile was amused.

“It was a _really_ good day, daddy. I don’t know that any day _can_ be as good.”

Tony kissed him, tasting the remnants of the sour cream on his lip.

“We’ll see what happens, honey. What about the rest of the night? Remember; _you’re_ the one who tells me what you want to do.”

Predictably, Peter’s cheeks reddened, beautifully, which amused Tony to no end. He didn’t say anything, though, instead pinning his baby with an intense look of expectation.

“Oh…” Peter took a drink of his cola. “I… that is…”

He couldn’t let him flounder. Tony reached for the hand that was closest to him, grounding the boy with a touch.

“Let’s start with the easy question,” he said. “Do you have anything in particular in mind?”

“Well. No. _Yes_.”

“You know what you _want_ , then. That’s good, honey. Such a good start.”

Peter’s head tilted, demurely, and he looked at Tony through his long eyelashes, enchanting the older man all over, again.

“Can I… I mean…”

“ _Say_ it, baby. Be my brave boy and tell daddy what I can do to make you happy, tonight. You know whatever it is, you can have it.”

“I _know_.” He did, too. “I want to practice.”

“Sucking me?”

Peter blushed, but he nodded, and didn’t look away.

“Yes.”

“You can suck on me all night, if you want, honey,” Tony assured him. “But no getting frustrated if you can’t swallow me, got it? It’s all for your _enjoyment_. Not a contest.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Do you want me in bed, or on the couch?”

“On the couch.”

“When you’re done eating, I’ll find a movie to watch, while you get changed into something more comfortable.”

And easier for him to take off, eventually.

Tony didn’t really care about watching a movie, but Peter liked them, and it would keep the boy occupied while he was playing with Tony. The older man would watch _soap operas_ if that was what Peter wanted. A few, anyway.

“I’m done.”

He cleared their dishes, and put them in the dishwasher, always willing to do what he could around the house. He couldn’t cook, but any idiot could operate a dishwasher. Especially when it was just stacking dishes in it. Tony was still at the table when he went into his room to change, but he was sitting on the couch with the remote in one hand, massaging the outline of his cock through his sweats with the other when Peter returned a few minutes, later.

Peter walked over, already feeling his mouth water, and Tony smiled up at him.

“Sure you don’t to reverse roles?” the older man asked. “I could spend the evening sucking you, repeated.”

“Tomorrow,” the boy told him, nudging his thighs apart and kneeling on the cushion Tony had thoughtfully placed on the floor between his feet. “I want to do it this way, right now.”

Tony shrugged, smiling, softly, as he watched Peter pull down the front of his sweats and free his cock. He wasn’t going to argue. Not when the boy’s mouth was so talented. Peter couldn’t deepthroat him – _yet_ – but he was observant, and had spent plenty of time with Tony’s cock in his mouth, by now, and had seen what made the older man shudder in pleasure and force a strained moan of pleasure from him, no matter how tightly clamped his lips were.

The billionaire was hard in moments, and Peter wasn’t cock warming him, just then, Tony realized. He wanted to get him off and wasn’t holding back to do it. He threw his head back, closing his eyes and concentrating on what the boy was doing to him. He couldn’t help that his hand went to Peter’s hair, clutching it, slightly, as a reflex. Especially when Peter’s tongue found the tender spot under the head of Tony’s cock that was his own personal trigger.

“That’s so good, honey,” Tony told him, crooning to his baby, since he couldn’t touch him, just then. He knew Peter’s triggers as well as the boy knew his, of course. “You're doing so well, sucking on daddy’s cock. Pretty boy… such a talented mouth. So beautiful and perfect. All daddy’s, too, aren’t you, honey?”

Peter nodded, moving his head and sliding Tony’s cock to the back of his mouth, holding him as deep as he could without gagging himself, while his hand found Tony’s testicles and caressed them, simultaneously. Tony grunted as he felt himself getting close, and the litany of encouragement grew faster, and dirtier as Peter ruthlessly seduced his cock, now, driving him to his climax and making the most obscenely pleased noises as Tony practically exploded into his mouth with a muffled curse.

He opened his eyes and watched breathlessly as the boy swallowed everything that he had to offer – and made sure there wasn’t any holding back – and then, when Tony’s cock was just softening, the boy buried it in his mouth, pressing his face right up against the coarse hair at the back of Tony’s cock, only now able to take his full length.

“God, baby… you’re so amazing.”

Tony sifted his fingers through Peter’s hair, and the boy pulled back enough to smile up at him, before he released Tony’s cock, and began peppering tiny kisses on the tender skin all around it.

“We’ve just begun, daddy,” Peter told him, his voice low and sultry, and Tony trembled at the promise in those beautiful brown eyes. “Lean back and get comfortable.”

With another moan, Tony did as he was told, closing his eyes, once more, to allow himself to concentrate on what was being done to him.

Yeah. He could do this all night.


	109. 109

“Your breakfast is in the oven, staying warm…”

Peter nodded, shivering at the breath in his ear when Tony spoke to him. Not quite enough to open his eyes, but enough to make him smile, and stretch. Tony was fully dressed and ready for his day. Peter was still in their bed, naked and dozing after being thoroughly pleasured by his daddy that morning.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“There’s money in your wallet if you want to go do something, later, with Tate. Do _not_ spend it on me. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Bob’s still asleep, so take him out before you start your schoolwork.”

Peter smiled and opened his eyes, rolling over so he could look up at him.

“You _could_ just stay home and do recess with me, again…” he said, sleepily, reaching for the billionaire’s hand.

“Don’t _tempt_ me, honey,” Tony told him, kissing Peter’s palm. He’d been wiped out so thoroughly by Peter’s mouth the night before that he hadn’t been able to get himself up to fuck the boy before bed; instead sucking him off and playing with his ass until he was writhing against his grip. But that morning, he’d woken Peter and mentioned that they could have recess before he even started his schooling and had proceeded to work the boy into a delirious frenzy before sliding into him and bringing them both to a more than satisfying climax. “I’d call in for a week and keep you in bed until Pepper sent in the National Guard thinking we’d been abducted by aliens, or something.”

“Not the Avengers?”

“They’d know where to find us, already.” The billionaire leaned over and kissed him. “Happy’s waiting, so I need to leave. If you need anything call.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey. Have fun, today – and don’t go back to sleep.”

“Okay.” He waited until Tony had reached the bedroom door. “Daddy…”

Tony turned.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. Just reminding you who you are.”

“You’re _killing_ me, baby.”

He left, then, feeling loved and complete, and Peter smiled and stretched, again, under the covers, but decided that he’d better get up and start his day. One thing about having a dog, he was learning; there was no such thing as sleeping in.

A quick shower later, and he was dressed and nudging their lazy dog into getting up so he could take him out for a quick walk and a chance to pee – preferably not on the carpet. Bob sighed a few times, looking at Peter, mournfully, but he eventually heaved himself out of his bed and allowed the slight boy to harness him.

><><><>>><< 

_“Incoming call from Tony.”_

“Oh!” Peter smiled. “Connect him, please.”

_“Peter?”_

“Hi.”

_“Hey. How’s it going?”_

“Good. I just finished the math assignments for the day, and I’m taking a break on the balcony. How about you? How’s _your_ day going?”

_“Finished a meeting, and I’m going to my workroom. You had breakfast?”_

The boy smiled.

“Yes. And when I’m done with my schoolwork, I’ll call and see if Tate wants to go somewhere for lunch.”

_“Good. Someplace outside, though, okay? I don’t know that I trust Bob home alone, just yet.”_

“No. I’ll take him with me.”

_“Need anything?”_

“No. But I’m glad you called.”

_“Baked chicken for dinner.”_

“Sounds good.”

The call ended, which told Peter that someone had probably been close enough that Tony couldn’t tell him that he loved him, or anything – which was fine. He was outside, after all, and who knew how far that sound would have travelled? Peter went back inside, closing the sliding door behind him.

“FRIDAY?” he asked, walking over to the display by the kitchen island. “What’s next?”

_“Science. Are you ready?”_

“Almost. Call Tate for me, please.”

The AI had access to Peter’s phone contacts, he knew. A moment later, he heard the noise telling him the call was trying to connect. A short time after that, he heard the other boy on the line.

_“Hello?”_

“Hi, Tate, it’s Peter.”

_“Oh, hey, Peter. Are you done, already?”_

“No. I just wanted to make sure you still wanted to do something.”

_“Yeah. If you're not too busy, that is?”_

“I have a science block to work on and then I’m good to go for the rest of the afternoon. But I have to be able to bring Bob, so we can’t go to a movie, or anything.”

_“Oh, no, that’s fine. We can go find someplace to eat and then hang out down here.”_

“Sounds good. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

_“I’m looking forward to it.”_

He ended the call and Peter had FRIDAY bring his classwork up so he could get it done.

>><>><><<><> 

Mother nature had her own ideas about what the boys were going to do after Peter finished his science work. Peter called Tate and headed to the apartment below Tony’s, and found Tate was ready to go. He had Buster already in his tiny harness, as well, and was ready. When they went outside, though, what had started as a somewhat sunny fall day was now overcast and chilly.

“We’ll get something to go,” Tate suggested as they walked to a sandwich shop only a few blocks away. “Then we can eat it at my gramma’s.”

He didn’t even consider asking to go to _Tony Stark’s_ apartment for lunch.

Peter nodded his agreement, and it started raining before they made it down the block.

“Here,” Peter said. “Give me Buster, and you go in and order. They won’t want Bob in there.”

“What do you want?”

“Anything is fine. Whatever you get.”

Peter and the two dogs stood in the rain while Tate went inside. The boy looked down at the tiny dog and scooped him up into his arms before the chihuahua could realize what he was doing and even growl a warning. By the time he was ready to bare his little teeth, Peter had him tucked up under his arm to keep him warm and protected from the rain, and the little dog only growled half-heartedly before settling, shivering a little, but nothing like he _had_ been.

“Sorry,” Tate said, when he finally came out, a bag and two drink cups in his hands. “They’re busy.”

“It’s alright.” The larger boy reached for Buster, but Peter shrugged. “I can carry him; he’s not even growling, right now.”

Then they wouldn’t have to worry about Tate spilling their drinks.

They walked quickly back to the apartment building, and through the lobby to the elevator.

“I should go change,” Peter told him.

“Yeah, you’re soaked,” Tate agreed. “Don’t worry, though. I’ve got a couple of sweatshirts. You can borrow one of them and then you don’t need to wait to eat.”

They went to Monica’s apartment, and both boys took their shoes off at the door and unharnessed the dogs. Buster was relatively dry, thanks to being under Peter’s arm, but Bob was almost as wet as Peter. Tate told them both to stay where they were, vanished into one of the rooms and came back with a couple of towels.

“Dry Bob,” he ordered. “I’ll be right back. Don’t worry about wet dog, or anything; Boomer gets soaked, too.”

By the time Peter had Bob as dry as he was going to get and the dog settled in Boomer’s dog bed, Tate returned, again, this time with a bundle of clothes.

“Take your shirt off, Pete,” he said, watching as he did, and then handing him a t-shirt, and then the sweatshirt.

Both were incredibly baggy on the smaller boy, but they were warm.

“Thanks.”

“You look good in them,” Tate told him with a smile as they took their lunch to the dining table and sat down to unwrap their sandwiches. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No. How about you?”

“No. _Boyfriend_?”

Peter smiled, uncertain if he was being teased, or not.

“No. Not, yet. You?”

As soon as he was legal, though, Tony had said they would make things official. Until then, they were a secret and he wasn’t going to share it with anyone.

“Not, yet. I’m _looking_ , though.”

Peter decided that he was serious, and smiled. If _he_ , Peter Parker, had admitted to enjoying the company of other guys, he would almost certainly open himself up to bullying from some of the assholes at his old school. He imagined that Tate didn’t have that problem. The guy was a tank, after all, and even though he was a good-natured person, Peter doubted that anyone would be crazy enough to mess with him.

“What do you do for fun?” Peter asked, taking a drink of his beverage, and frowning at the unusual taste, looking at the cup.

“I play violin – you already knew that. Work at an animal shelter – which is where I got Buster – goof around with video games and porn on the internet.”

Peter took a bite of his sandwich.

“Porn? At your gramma’s?”

Tate laughed, shook his head, and started eating his sandwich, too.

“She’s _kill_ me if she caught me, but I have a _lot_ of it on my phone. Big guys with little guys is pretty hot to watch. Do you watch any?”

Unaccountably, Peter blushed, and shook his head.

“I’ve never watched it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“ _How_ old are you?”

“Sixteen?”

“How have you missed out on porn, dude?”

“My aunt and uncle were pretty careful about what I did on the internet.” And probably _rightfully_ so. “So, I couldn’t watch it at home. And the school keeps track of browser history.”

“Yeah, mine does, too.” Tate grinned. “A _porn virgin_. I didn’t know there were any.”

Peter shrugged, blushing, again, and taking another sip of the drink and thinking they should probably change the subject before Monica came home.

“Yeah.”

"We could take care of that. I have some you can watch with me. If you want, that is."

"Oh." Peter shrugged, fairly certain he wasn't going to appreciate the allure of seeing two strangers going at each other. "Yeah, sure. I guess."

“What about _other_ ways?” the older boy asked. “Are _you_ a virgin?”

Peter coughed, snorting his drink through his nose and feeling a weird tingle through his mouth, and throat.

“What _is_ this?” he asked, wiping his dripping nose on the sleeve of the borrowed sweatshirt.

“Strawberry lemonade. It’s good. I-“

“What?”

“It’s _lemonade_. Do get all freaked out by the virgin question, okay? I was just asking. I wasn’t planning on-“

“I’m _allergic_ to strawberries, Tate.”

“What?”


	110. 110

FRIDAY made the call to Tony the same time that Tate was calling 911. The medics arrived, first, but Tony barged into the apartment not long after. He saw three men and a woman in uniforms stating they were with FDNY and three men who were medics. All but one of them were gathered around Peter, who was sprawled on Monica’s sofa with an oxygen mask over his much too pale face. The other was forcibly holding back Bob, who was trying to protect Peter from the crowd of strangers. Tate was standing off to the side, arms wrapped around himself, looking frightened, and Tony could hear Buster barking from the direction of Monica's bedroom.

“What happened?” Tony asked, walking over to the couch.

“Anaphylaxis shock,” the medic on the floor beside Peter replied, brushing the boy’s hair back from his forehead. “We’re waiting for him to respond to the Epinephrine treatment.”

“Peter?”

The boy didn’t open his eyes or respond in any way that Tony could tell. They had put a cuff around his arm and were taking his blood pressure, repeatedly.

“Don’t worry,” one of the firefighters told him. “We were here quickly and there wasn’t any indication of airway constriction. He was unconscious, but he’s coming around.”

“He’s not _responding_.”

“His blood pressure’s up, and his breathing isn’t so shallow. We just need to give the medicine a chance to do its job.”

Tony looked at the older boy.

“Tate?”

“I didn’t know he was allergic to strawberries, Mr. Stark.” The boy looked ready to cry; he was so distraught. “We went to Myron’s down the street. They have strawberry lemonade. It was raining, so we were going to eat back here, and Peter held the dogs while I went in to order. He told me to get him whatever I got for myself. So I did. We came back and we were talking, and he started looking a little funny, then he asked what he was drinking, and I told him… and…”

“Okay. It’s alright.” He turned back to the medics. “What’s the plan? Do we take him to the hospital?”

“Absolutely,” one of them replied, immediately. “We’ll want to make sure he’s responded well to the treatment, and we’ll make sure there isn’t a rebound – a renewing of the symptoms.”

“We’ll want to make sure you guys have a couple of Epi pens, too,” he was told. “An allergy that severe, I’m surprised he doesn’t carry one.”

Tony wasn’t. Homeless kids can’t afford medications as expensive as an Epi pens, he knew. But he should have thought about it and gotten one for him. One for Tony to carry, as well. Just in case.

“Why are you still here, then?” he asked.

“We’re waiting for him to stabilize.” None of them sounded offended at his abrupt question. They were all used to worried friends and family. “Once we do, we’ll have him transported. Are you coming?”

“Yes. He’s emancipated, but I’m his medical and emergency contact.” Tony looked over to the other boy. “Tate? Would you mind watching Bob?”

“No, sir.”

“Tell your grandmother I’ll come get him in the morning, if that’s alright.”

“Yes, sir.”

A movement from the still figure on the couch drew everyone’s attention and Peter’s eyes fluttered open. He looked around, his face mostly covered by the breathing mask, but his confusion clear to see in his expressive brown eyes.

“How do you feel, son?” the medic who had been checking his blood pressure asked, moving the mask down so Peter could reply.

“What?” his voice was raspy.

“Do you hurt, Peter?” Tony asked.

“No. Yes.”

“Which?” the medic asked.

“My throat hurts.”

“We’ll get you something for that as soon as we can. What’s your name?”

“Peter.”

“How old are you, Peter?”

“Sixteen.” He looked at Tony. “I’m okay.”

Obviously, the billionaire hadn’t been hiding his concern as well as he thought he was.

“I know you are,” he replied. “We’re going to take you to the hospital, though, just to make certain of it.”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

“I know. But this is important, so do what you’re told, alright?”

“Okay.”

A final check of the boy’s blood pressure and a few more questions, and the medics loaded Peter onto a gurney.

“He’s allergic to _latex_ , too,” Tony told them.

“That’s not too surprising,” one of the firemen said. “My son’s allergic to strawberries and latex. Apparently they go together, for some reason.”

Stark looked at Tate, as they were rolling Peter out of the apartment

“Are you alright?”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It was an accident,” Tony told him, sincerely. “You’ll know, next time. And he should have been more careful.”

“I’ll take care of Bob for you.”

“I know you will. Tell your grandmother that I’ll call her if there’s any change of plans.”

“I will.” He turned, suddenly, and grabbed a bundle of clothes from the table. “Here. These are Peter’s.”

Tony frowned, recognizing the black sweatshirt Natasha had given Peter, which Tony hated, but Peter wore as often as possible because it was from _Natasha_. The t-shirt was still inside it.

“Why do-“

“You coming, Mr. Stark?” one of the medics asked, looking over their shoulder as they started gathering their equipment.

“Yes.”

He glanced at the boy, once more, and down at the sweatshirt in his hand, and walked out of the apartment, following the last of the firefighters.

><><><><><<<> 

They put him in a private observation room, hooked him up to a few monitoring machines, covered him with a warmed blanket and then left him alone with Tony, who immediately came over and sat down on the edge of his bed.

“I don’t want to be here…” Peter whispered, his voice still raspy from the sore throat. A byproduct of the allergy, one of the medics had explained on the way to the hospital. “ _Please_ …”

Tony rested his hand on the boy’s cheek, cupping it with his palm.

“You’re _fine_ , honey,” he murmured. “I’m going to be right here with you. Okay? No one can hurt you.”

“I’m sorry I worried you.”

Peter was trembling, and Tony reached for another blanket that had been set along the foot of the bed.

“Don’t be. What happened?”

“We were eating lunch and talking about porn and I had some of the drink and it started tingling and then burning in my mouth. Then I felt sick, and Tate said he’d call 911, and I had FRIDAY call you from my watch.”

“You did everything just right,” Tony assured him, tucking the blanket around him. “We’ll make sure we get a couple of Epi pens, just in case it happens, again.”

He didn’t ask Peter why they were discussing porn.

“Tate was really calm,” Peter said. “He didn’t panic. _I_ did.”

Tony nodded, feeling just a sting of annoyance at the way Peter sounded so impressed by the actions of the other boy. He’d called 911; how hard was that?

“Try to get some rest, Peter,” the billionaire told him. “They’re going to watch you for the next four hours or so. Then I’ll take you home as long as nothing happens.”

“You’ll stay?”

“Of course I will.”

Peter closed his eyes, allowing Tony’s presence to ease his fears.

“Tate likes porn,” Peter murmured, almost to himself. “We should watch porn, daddy.”

“Go to sleep, Peter.”


	111. 111

“You got him?”

“Yeah. We’re okay. I’m going to take tomorrow off.”

Happy nodded, not at all surprised.

“I’ll see you Thursday, then.”

“Yes.”

Tony shifted his grip on Peter’s sleeping form, and easily carried the boy from the car to the elevator. They’d been at the hospital for several hours before the ER doctors had given Peter a clean bill of health and had discharged him. Armed with a couple of Epipens, now, the boy had wearily gotten into the back of the car when Happy had come to collect them. He was climbing into Tony’s lap before the car had even done more than pull out of the parking lot, and with loving arms embracing him, protectively, he was asleep in moments.

It had taken a little shuffling to reposition the slight boy when they’d reached the parking garage, but Tony had managed it, and Happy had eased Peter out of the back of the car and handed him over to Tony once he was out, as well.

All without waking him.

The elevator discharged them a minute later, and Tony moved to his bedroom. He undressed Peter, deftly, tossing Tate’s sweatshirt and t-shirt aside with a slight scowl, and then tucking his baby under the blankets.

The extra motions roused the boy, a little.

“Daddy…?”

“Shhh, baby,” Tony murmured. “We’re home. Go to sleep, okay?”

“I’m hungry,” Peter told him without opening his eyes.

“I’ll make us some dinner, then.” He was pleased that he had an appetite, and he certainly wasn't going to let him go hungry. He kissed the boy’s temple. “Anything in particular that you’re hungry for?”

“ _Lasagna_.”

The older man rolled his eyes, amused.

“It’ll take hours to make that. How about something a little less ambitious? I’ll make lasagna, tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Peter opened his eyes, looking up at Tony, his brown eyes tired from the events of the afternoon but focused, now, on the man leaning over him. “I love you, daddy.”

Tony groaned and gathered him into his arms, hugging him, close.

“My _baby_. You’re so pretty, Peter. Don’t scare me like that, again, okay?”

“I won’t.”

Probably a promise that he would try to keep, but wouldn’t actually be able to. Not once he started going out as Spiderman on a regular basis.

“I love you, too, honey. Get some rest. I’ll bring dinner to you.”

The brown eyes closed, and he nodded off, his head coming to rest against Tony’s chest. With a tender smile, he shifted Peter over to a pillow and covered him, again, and went into the kitchen to make something a little less complicated than lasagna.

>>>><><>><>> 

By the time Tony brought dinner to the bedroom, Peter was able to wake again without being quite so groggy. He sat up in the bed, shivering, slightly, until Tony brought a throw blanket from Peter’s bedroom and draped it over his bare shoulders. While they made their way through a meal of stir fry and noodles, Tony listened to Peter tell him about the day – right up until he’d had lunch.

The schoolwork went well, which was confirmed by FRIDAY who advised all his answers had been correct, save two, which could be reviewed with someone, or done on his own to see where he’d gone wrong. Breakfast had been good, despite being left to stay warm and not as fresh as Tony would have liked.

“I’d have eaten it cold,” Peter assured him. Right out of the fridge.” He smiled; his cheeks reddening a little. “It was worth it for recess.”

Tony shook his head, amused.

“I’ll help you with the questions that you missed,” he told the boy. “I’m going to stay home, tomorrow, so I’ll be here.”

“You don’t have to stay home just because I got sick,” Peter said. “I’m _fine_ , now. They told you that.”

If there had been any concern about any kind of rebound – and there _had_ been for a while – the doctors never would have discharged the boy. Tony knew this. It didn’t make him less concerned, though.

“I don’t _have_ to,” he agreed. “But I _want_ to. I just need to be sure. Besides, it’s a great excuse to get out of the meetings, tomorrow. If I tell Pepper I don’t want to attend because they’re boring and I’d rather pull my arm off and beat myself over the head with it, she’ll scowl at me in blatant disapproval.” He smiled and touched Peter’s nose with his fingertip. “If I tell her you were in the hospital today – which she knows, because I was in her office when FRIDAY told me what was happening – then she will scowl at me if I don’t stay home to keep an eye on you. That’s a win, win. See?”

“How?”

“I look good for taking care of you – which I’d do any chance I get – _and_ I skip the meetings and conference calls scheduled tomorrow. You’re basically doing me a favor by drinking that strawberry shit.”

“It tasted pretty good, really,” Peter admitted. “I don’t know exactly how much was the lemonade and what was the strawberry, but I can see why Tate likes it.”

“Don’t even think about having another go at it.”

The boy shook his head.

“No. I won’t.” He suddenly looked concerned. “He’s alright, isn’t he?”

“Who?”

“Tate.”

“Yeah, honey. He’s fine.”

“I should call him. To make sure he doesn’t think this was his fault.”

Tony forced down the scowl, keeping his expression neutral.

He didn’t like Peter wearing Tate’s sweatshirt, or watching porn with him – or even _discussing_ porn with him. If the boy wanted to watch porn, he could do it with Tony, like he’d suggested. Tate was too close to Peter’s age, was muscular and good looking and somewhere deep down, the billionaire recognized him as a threat to his happiness with Peter. Even if was only _perceived_.

“It’s late,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “Call him tomorrow.” He leaned in to kiss the boy. “Besides, honey… I distinctly remember you telling me that I can suck you all night.”

Peter’s eyes lit up, making Tony smile, pleased that he’d distracted him.

“Where do you want me, daddy?” Peter asked, mirroring the question Tony had asked him the night before. “Here? Or on the couch?”

“Right here. I’m going to take care of the tray. I’ll be right back”

Peter leaned his head back into the pillows and watched as Tony left the room, carrying the tray. His hand went down to his cock, casually caressing it, excited at even the thought of having Tony’s mouth on him all evening. He could go several times, and Tony knew it. And enjoyed testing those limits – which was absolutely fine with Peter.

He closed his eyes, wondering if Tony would play with his ass, too. He would if Peter asked, he knew, flushing hotly at even the thought of asking for him to do that – and seeing in his mind’s eye the look of love and lust that would light up those brown eyes that Peter was so hooked on. It wouldn’t be that hard to say, Peter thought. Play with my ass, daddy… five words. Five words that would lead him to the promised land, really. Tony knew Peter’s body so well. Knew what he-

“Starting without me?”

Peter’s eyes flew open, and he blushed. Caught once more with his dick in his hand.

“I was just thinking about you,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” Tony walked over to the bed, and pulled the blankets aside, exposing Peter and his swollen cock, which was filling his palm, now, throbbing and eager. He rolled Peter onto his back, moving his hand away with the same motion, and replacing it with his own. “What were you thinking of?”

Peter groaned when Tony’s thumb ran along the slit and the head of his cock, smearing precum over the surface.

“I was thinking about what we’re going to do tonight,” he said, breathlessly.

“I’m going to suck you.”

“Yes.” He was looking forward to it.

The billionaire smiled.

“Did you have _other_ things in mind, as well, honey? Something you want daddy to do, special? Just for his baby.”

Peter nodded.

“Yes…”

“What?” Tony wasn’t going to guess – even though he had a pretty good idea what the boy wanted. “ _Say_ it, baby. My brave, pretty boy. Tell daddy how to make you happy, tonight.”

The boy trembled and closed his eyes.

“Play with my ass, daddy,” he whispered. “Please?”

“Of course I will,” Tony crooned. “Delicious baby… such a pretty cock for daddy. I’m going to spend all night eating you and playing with you, honey. And then, once you’ve cum all over the two of us so many times that there’s nothing left inside you, I’ll roll you onto your belly and slide my cock into you – just to remind you who the daddy is.”

“ _You’re_ the daddy,” Peter assured him, hips rocking. “Always my daddy.”

“That’s right, Peter… I _am_.”

If there was a touch more possessiveness in Tony’s tone, the boy didn’t notice, since the millionaire was already taking him in his mouth.

Peter closed his eyes and gave himself up to what Tony was doing to him.


	112. 112

It was an indication of just how easy it was for them to get into a scheduled routine that both of them woke to take Bob out, the next morning – even though the dog wasn’t in the apartment asking to be walked. Tony sighed, his arm tightening on the boy beside him, feeling lazy and relaxed.

Of course, they’d been up late the evening before, he reminded himself with a slight smile.

He’d sucked Peter’s cock, repeatedly, driving the boy to climax over and over, until he finally had to stop because his jaws were beginning to ache. Then, just when Peter thought they finished, Tony had turned his attention to the boy’s ass and had leisurely played with him, teasing and caressing and fingering him until he’d been reduced to a writhing mess under the older man’s touch.

It had culminated with Tony rolling the boy onto his belly, finally, and fucking him until they were both senseless.

He might have fallen back to sleep, but he heard a soft noise, and a hand came to rest on his, where it was pressed against Peter’s stomach.

“Are you awake, baby?” he asked, softly.

“M-hmm…” was the sleepy response. “I should go get Bob. He’s probably driving Monica crazy…”

“Not to mention eating her out of house and home. How do you feel?”

Peter stretched, languidly, and rolled in his arms, looking tousled and self-satisfied.

“Like my daddy spent a lot of time taking care of me, last night.”

Tony smiled.

“That’s not exactly what I meant, but I’m glad you approve.”

“I do.”

“I can go get Bob. You should get some more sleep.”

“I’m good,” Peter assured him, brushing a kiss against his chest. “Besides, I need to take Tate’s clothes back to him. What are we going to do, today?”

“You have school, first,” Tony reminded him, forcing down the annoyance at the thought of sharing any of Peter’s attention with the other teen. “After that, how about a quiet day, just the two of us?”

“And Bob.”

He smiled.

“And _Bob_. Go get him, and I’ll start breakfast.”

“Kiss me, first…”

Tony did as he was told, brushing Peter’s lips, tenderly, and sliding his hand along the boy’s side, landing it on his hip.

“You’re beautiful, honey.”

Peter’s smile was like sunshine – as was the blush that reddened his cheeks.

“Thank you, daddy.”

Tony moved, pushing Peter onto his back and following, straddling the boy’s hips and looking down at him.

“You’re beautiful, and desirable and so fucking sexy that I can’t get enough of you. Have I told you that, yet, today?”

“No. But I love it.”

He could tell by the way the boy was trembling in delight – and the slowly hardening flesh trapped under him, between their bodies.

“I love you, honey,” Tony told him, leaning over and kissing him, deeply, once more before moving off of him. “But I’d better let you up so we can start our day – or we’ll never get out of bed, you and I will miss breakfast and starve, and Monica will come beating down the door to return our dog. I’m looking forward to recess, though.”

“Me, too,” Peter assured him, sitting up and then getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom.

>>><><><>> 

“Peter!”

Monica’s face lit up and she pulled the boy into an impromptu hug, which Peter returned, cheerfully.

“Good morning.”

“How are you feeling?” the woman asked, letting him go and looking him over.

“I’m fine. Thanks. I just came to get Bob – and to return Tate’s shirt.”

“Tate took all the dogs out for a walk,” she said, taking the bundle of clothing from him. “It hasn’t been too long; you could probably catch up with him.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Do you and Tony want to come down for breakfast?”

“Thanks, but he’s already started making ours.”

“Good enough. I’m taking Tate with me to the flower shop, today. Do you need anything, though?”

“Tony’s staying home from work, today.” He rolled his eyes. “He said he wants to make sure I’m alright – but then he mentioned that this way he can miss all the boring meetings.”

“It’s an ill-wind that blows no good for someone,” she quoted. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will, thanks.”

Peter left her doorway and headed back for the elevator, already touching his watch and asking FRIDAY to pass on a message to Tony.

>>><><><>>< 

_“Peter’s asking me to let you know that Tate has taken Bob out for a walk and he’s going to go join him.”_

“What?”

_“Peter’s going to go walk Bob with Tate. He asked me to tell you so you wouldn’t worry about him not returning, right away.”_

Tony scowled, not looking up from the onion that he was chopping.

“I’d worry a lot less if the kid wasn’t talking about watching porn and swapping shirts with Peter.”

_“He asked Peter if he was a virgin,”_ FRIDAY added, helpfully.

“What?” Now he _did_ look up. “How do you know _that_?”

_“Peter’s watch. The com button sticks, sometimes and I don’t have a choice but to listen. He triggered it while waiting outside the deli, yesterday.”_

“You-“ Tony was impressed by FRIDAY. Yes, he was the one who made her, but she was constantly evolving, surprising even him with how intuitive she could be. This was a prime example. “What else did you hear?”

He’d already established that he didn’t mind using her to spy on the boy

_“Tate asked Peter if he had a girlfriend. He said no. Then asked if he had a boyfriend – and Peter replied that he didn’t – yet.”_

“What? What am _I_?”

_“The man old enough to be his father who has sex with him, daily, and hasn’t bought him a box of chocolates or any flowers.”_

The billionaire scowled, again.

“Mind your own business.”

The AI went silent, and Tony finished chopping the onion. He could practically feel her waiting, expectantly, and he sighed. It was worse than any soap opera he’d ever heard about.

“ _Fine_. What else did you hear?”

_“Tate plays violin, works at an animal shelter, plays video games and watches porn. He told Peter he thinks big guys with little guys is hot.”_

“That’s not very subtle, is it?” Tony asked, dumping the onion into the skillet he had on the stove.

_“He called Peter a porn virgin and then asked if Peter was a virgin in other ways, as well.”_

“ _What_? What did Peter say?”

_“He asked what he was drinking and said he was allergic to strawberries.”_

“Jesus.”

He was quiet as he started browning the sausage pieces in the onions he’d sautéed. Obviously, Peter wouldn’t have told Tate that he and Tony were sleeping together. Of course not. So he wasn’t going to tell the older boy that he had a boyfriend. Peter was smart enough to know that that would have led to questions about who the boyfriend was.

He didn’t like the fact that Tate was obviously interested in Peter. _Big guys fucking little guys?_ Who said that if they weren’t a big guy looming over a little guy? Especially a little guy who was as adorable and fuckable as Peter. He’d make anyone hard. Maybe he should have a talk with Peter. Make sure that he recognized what was going on? Of course, maybe he already knew? Probably not, though. Peter didn’t seem to be distracted in bed.

He was definitely infatuated with Tate, though.

“FRIDAY. Order a dozen roses and a box of some kind of ultra-expensive chocolates – make sure they’re aware of his strawberry allergies. And _don’t_ use a flower shop that _Monica_ owns, okay?”

_“You got it.”_

Tony went to the fridge for eggs.

“And let me know if you hear anything else regarding Tate.”

Just in case.


	113. 113

“There’s my big boy…”

Bob wagged his tail, idly, as Peter walked up to the dog. Tate smiled, and handed the smaller boy the mastiff’s lead.

“Good morning.”

“Hey. Thanks for walking him.”

Tate shrugged, almost blushing.

“He’s pretty easy to handle. I was playing with him last night. Did you guys teach him all the tricks that he knows?”

“No. He knew them when we got him. What did he do for you?” Peter asked, curiously. “We know he can sit, shake and he’ll come to his name.”

“He’ll roll over, speak and play dead if you pretend to shoot him.”

Peter made a face, amused.

“How did you figure _that_ out?”

“I pretended to shoot Boomer and Bob went down, too. It was hilarious. Show it to Tony, sometime.”

“I will.”

They started walking next to each other, with the older boy holding the leashes for Boomer and Buster, but setting a slow pace in deference to the chihuahua’s tiny size and little legs.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday, Peter,” Tate told him. “I didn’t know you had any allergies.”

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Peter told him. “I didn’t even think about it – but I _should_ have. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

They walked in silence for a while,

“What are you doing this weekend?” Tate finally asked.

“Tony is taking me to the Avenger compound. We’re flying to Dallas, I think. We were going to do it last weekend, but things got a little crazy. Why?”

“I was hoping to spend some time with you. I can’t compete with hanging out with the _Avengers_ , though.”

Peter smiled.

“No one can, right? I have to work tomorrow after I’m done with school, but Friday is a down day for me, with school _and_ with work – we could do something until four or five, I think. If you want?”

“That’d be great.”

>>><><<>>> 

Peter was cheerful when he returned to the apartment with Bob, and once he had the dog out of his harness, both of them walked over to the kitchen. Bob stuck his nose in Tony’s hand for a moment by way of hello and then went to his food dish, while Peter walked over and leaned on the island to watch as the billionaire put the final touches on their breakfast.

“That smells _amazing_ , daddy.”

“Thanks, baby.” Tony looked up from the skillet. “How was the walk?”

“It was fine. Tate said that he found out that Bob knows a few more tricks than we already knew about. We’ll have to see if he’ll do them, later.”

“Yeah? Definitely. Wash up; breakfast is ready.”

Peter did what he was told, and they sat at the table to eat their meal. The boy was in a good mood, and didn’t notice that Tony was a little quiet as they ate. Peter filled in the spaces, asking Tony about the nanotech company and how he was doing with the researching that was being done to figure out how to incorporate it into the Ironman suit. The answers were stilted, but Tony was intelligent enough that even a distracted answer coming from him was more intelligent than a dissertation from anyone else.

“I’ll do the dishes,” the older man finally said, when they were done eating. “Go ahead and get started on your schoolwork.”

“I could help.”

“I’ve got it.” The man’s tone was short, and Peter looked up at him, uncertainly. “Go get started.”

The boy nodded, and silently got up from the table, heading into the living room. Bob had long since finished his breakfast and had retired to his bed with a chewbone, and Peter sat on the soda, pulling up a display and asking FRIDAY to bring up his first class’s work.

Tony stood at the island with their plates in hand, and watched him for a minute before loading the dishwasher and wiping the counters. Only when the place was spotless did he sit at the table with a display and a tablet and pull up the newest specs for his nanotech, deciding that it would make a good distraction for him

>>>><<><><>> 

“Daddy?”

Tony pulled his attention from the screens in front of him, surprised to find Peter standing right beside him. He hadn’t heard him come across the room.

“Yes, honey?”

“Are you busy?”

The billionaire opened an arm, inviting the boy into his embrace, and glanced at the timestamp in the corner of the screen, startled to see that he’d been working for several hours, already.

“Not too busy for you. You know that.”

Peter tucked himself into the space Tony made for him, sliding an arm around him and feeling him hug him, close.

“You looked pretty focused,” he said, pressing his face against Tony’s neck. “I didn’t want to interrupt if you were doing something complicated.”

“Are you doing alright?” Tony asked, kissing the boy’s temple. “Anything I can help you with?”

“I finished the essay I had to write.”

“Should I read it?”

“If you want.”

_“The instructor is encouraged to read the essay,”_ FRIDAY added. _“To ascertain the flow of the topic.”_

It wasn’t really something she was designed to evaluate.

“Bring it up on this screen, please,” Tony said, smiling over at Peter, who slid his hand into the other man’s lap. “No distractions, honey.”

“After?”

Tony felt his groin twitch, and knew Peter felt it, too, because the boy’s expression softened, his pupils widening in reaction.

“Yes.”

Peter smiled and climbed into Tony’s lap, wrapping his arms around him so that Tony didn’t have to hold him in place if he didn’t want to, but unwilling to stand beside him if he didn’t _have_ to. When the older man brought his arms around Peter in response, the boy relaxed against him, and closed his eyes, just breathing in the smell of him while Tony read his essay.

It didn’t take long.

“That was the most interesting commentary about the life of bees that I’ve ever read,” Tony told him.

“And the _first_?” Peter asked, smiling, and shivering at the praise.

“Yes,” the billionaire admitted, with a kiss against his cheek. “But it doesn’t mean it wasn’t good.”

“Was it?”

“Absolutely. And informative. Even better, it wasn’t all over the place like some things I’ve read from my vice presidents and executive officers. You made a topic sentence and stuck with it through the paragraph, before moving on to the next. Good job.”

Peter was practically preening, by then.

“Thank you, daddy.”

“Ready for a break?” Tony asked, running his hand under the back of Peter’s sweatshirt. “Or do you want to finish everything before I play with you for a while?”

“No. I want to take a break.”

“Let me up, honey,” Tony told him. “This chair is making my rear numb. Let’s go to the couch.”

Peter moved off of him, and waited, only somewhat impatiently, while Tony got up and stretched. He’d been sitting for quite a while, after all. Then he put an arm around Peter, and they walked over to the couch.

“Pants off, Peter,” Tony ordered as he sat down.

_He_ was wearing sweats, which meant that the could free himself with relative ease, but Peter was in jeans and while Tony hadn’t decided exactly what recess was going to entail, he wanted instant access to the boy. He watched, lightly stroking his growing erection through the fabric of his pants, as Peter slid his jeans and boxers down and off and then reclaimed Tony’s lap, taking the older man’s hand from where it was and placing it against his own cock, which was hard and throbbing.

“ _Please_ , daddy…” Peter murmured, whining as Tony wrapped his fingers around the boy’s shaft.

“You need it bad, honey?”

“Yes.” He buried his face against Tony’s neck, right under his jaw. “ _Please_.”

“What do you want, beautiful boy?” Tony crooned, excited by how suddenly Peter seemed to get aroused, and unaware that the boy had been achingly hard all morning, just watching Tony working on his research. “Tell daddy so I do it the way you want me to.”

There was only the slightest hesitation as Peter closed his eyes, making it dark and easier for him to make his demands.

“Suck me and then bend me over…”

“Good job, baby,” Tony cooed. “You’re so amazing, telling me what you want like that. So pretty. And _eager_ , too, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Tony slid out from under the boy, putting him in his spot for the moment and pressing his knees apart so he could slide down between them.

“Daddy wants to suck on his brave boy. I want to make my wonderful baby feel so good.”

“Please…”

Tony smiled, and bent his head to Peter’s cock, his tongue coming out to lap at the precum dribbling from the tip, making slurping noises of approval and his hand went to Peter’s balls, teasing and rolling them gently with his fingertips.

“You taste as delicious as you look, honey,” Tony murmured, before he took the boy’s cock into his mouth, sucking just the head and then slowly taking the rest of that trembling rod into his mouth and down his throat.

Peter cried out with surprise as his climax washed over him far too soon, but Tony simply swallowed him, drinking his cum and still playing with the boy, milking him for everything he had, and making noises of approval, well aware that Peter wouldn’t take long to get hard, again.

After all, he was a teenager – and he had incredible stamina.

The boy leaned back as Tony slowly pulled his head back, Peter’s cock coming out of his mouth inch by inch and so exciting that it took what little breath he had left away. Tony kissed the head of Peter’s cock and then stood up, bringing Peter to his feet with the same motion.

Before the boy knew what he was doing, Tony had turned him away from him, pushing him against the back of the sofa, knees on the cushions, but ass up in the air and upper body bent over the edge.

“Stay right like that, baby,” he ordered him, reaching for lube before sliding his hands along Peter’s upturned ass, fingers automatically finding his crack and then the puckered hole. “You’re so beautiful, Peter,” he crooned, pressing a finger into the boy and beginning to stretch him a little while he played with him, adding in compliments heavily, since it was what Peter loved. “You’re amazing, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes, daddy,” Peter whispered, trembling, his hands clutching the sofa to brace himself, his legs spread wide to give his daddy total access to his ass. “I need you, _daddy_ … please…?”

Tony made sure his cock was slick before he lined himself up with Peter’s opening.

“Beg me, Peter,” he said, thickly. “Make me fuck you.”

“ _Please_ , daddy,” Peter whined, pressing backward against him. “I need it. I need you.”

“Just _me_ , right, honey?” Tony grunted, the head of his cock right at the boy’s twitching hole. “Only your _daddy_ gets to fuck his baby’s tight hole, right…?”

“Yes!” Peter groaned, writhing hard, so aroused with want that he was practically gibbering. “All yours, daddy. Just yours. I’m _your_ baby…”

Tony slammed into him, hilting with a single forceful thrust that made Peter moan in a mixture of pleasure and pain, even though he’d been stretched beforehand.

“Just mine,” Tony told him. “All mine. Just for me, aren’t you, baby?” Each sentence was preceded with another hard thrust, and Peter could only hold tight to the couch, bracing himself under Tony’s onslaught, pressing back with each thrust, trying to get him deeper. “Mine…”

“Yes, daddy… harder…”

Tony swore and hilted, his hands clutching Peter’s hips as he climaxed, driving deep and spewing his seed into the boy in hot ropes of furious desire.

“Oh my _fucking_ god, honey…” he groaned, watching the place where he had the boy pinned, jerking his hips as he tried to get more of his length into Peter, feeling as though his balls were turning inside out and trying to climb into the boy’s ass as well. “You’re so beautiful. So wonderful.”

Peter sobbed, overwhelmed by the sheer primal hunger that had fueled Tony’s loving. He didn’t know what had made him so needy, so suddenly, but he’d tried to match him and felt wrung out as a result. He didn’t _hurt_ ; it was nothing like their very first time had been – although, in a way, it had been similar. It just had seemed _angry_ , and Peter wasn’t sure if he’d done something wrong to make his daddy mad at him.

Tony slid out of the boy, cum leaking out of Peter’s ass with the motion, and he shook his head, almost dazed, realizing that Peter was in tears.

He turned the boy, gathering him in his arms and sitting on the couch to bring him down onto his lap.

“Oh, honey… Peter… shhhh…” he peppered tender kisses along the boy’s cheeks, tasting salty tears. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, baby… daddy’s sorry…”

“No…” Peter hiccupped, unable to stop the tears, but shaking his head, while the rest of him trembled so hard that he felt like he might shake apart at any minute and only Tony’s hold on him was keeping it from happening. “I don’t hurt. I’m sorry.”

“Shhhh… it’s okay,” Tony cooed, petting him and bringing the throw blanket over the boy to help keep him warm. “Daddy’s got you.”

He rocked the boy, tenderly, as they both came down. Peter from whatever was upsetting him, and Tony from the hottest climax he’d had in a very long time.

Peter whimpered.

“You’re mad at me?”

“No, honey,” Tony told him, pressing a kiss against his ear and wondering if the boy was naturally sensitive to that kind of emotion, or if it had something to do with the spider bite. “I’m not mad at you at _all_. I _love_ you.”

 He knew that he should tell the boy his concerns about Tate, then. It was the perfect time to explain to him why he was being possessive – more so than usual. He didn’t, though. He wasn’t willing to admit that he could be subject to something so basic and petty as jealousy. He was having enough trouble admitting that even to himself.

“You do?” Peter asked, with a soft sniff.

“Of _course_ I do, honey,” Tony assured him, still rocking him, trying to still the trembling in that slim frame with loving caresses. “I just got carried away. I won’t do it, again, like that. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You _did_ …” the boy admitted.

“Poor baby… daddy’s sorry. My brave boy…” he crooned, tucking Peter’s head under his chin. “My beautiful, wonderful baby. The smartest and most amazing person in the world… and so sexy...”

He meant all of it, and his tone of voice proved it, which was easily transmitted to Peter, but it was a long time before the boy was able to relax, and melt against the billionaire’s embrace, once more.


	114. 114

Despite the rocky recess time, Peter insisted that he was fine to complete his day’s schoolwork.  Still a little rattled, he pulled his jeans back on and reclaimed his position in front of the display while FRIDAY pulled up the assignment for the advanced math class they'd signed him into.

Tony watched for a moment from a position beside the boy, his hand still on Peter’s back, caressing him, idly.

“You don’t _have_ to do that, right now, honey. It can wait.”

“It needs to get done, and I can’t make it up tomorrow, since Bruce will be back, so I’ll be working with him in the afternoon.”

“You could do it _Friday_. That’s a down day, right?”

“Yeah, but I thought I’d take Tate to Coney Island Friday.”

Tony frowned, but Peter didn’t notice.

“What?”

“Yeah. He wanted to do something this weekend, but I’m spending the weekend with _you_ , so I suggested I was free until 4 or 5 o’clock on Friday. Happy gave me those Coney Island passes for my birthday, so I thought I’d take Tate.” He looked over, and noticed the odd way the older man’s jaw was clenched. “ _You_ didn’t want to go with me, did you?” he asked, uncertainly. “After the _last time_ , I didn’t think…”

“No. The rides are not for me.” He didn’t do a good job of hiding his frown, but he _tried_ to. “I could _drive_ you, though…”

Then he could at least keep an eye on things.

“Tate has a car. He can drive us,” Peter told him, turning back to the assignment on the display. “Then you wouldn’t lose a day of work just to be bored watching us go on rides.”

“Yeah…”

Annoyed, and suddenly needing to move, the billionaire stood up. Peter watched him.

“You don’t mind, do you, daddy?” he asked, uncertainly, catching the sudden tension in the room, but not sure what was causing it. “I could stay home instead…?”

“No,” Tony told him, leaning over the back of the couch and pulling Peter back to press a kiss against his forehead, not missing the way his beautiful eyes were once again concerned. Jesus, he was being a dick to the boy, and Peter just wanted to go to the amusement park. It wasn’t like he’d said they were going to go watch little guy/big guy porn in the dark, somewhere. “I don’t mind, honey. I just… we’re sure Tate has a license?”

That sounded lame, even to him.

“I’ll make sure with Monica,” Peter assured him, looking a little relieved that that was the concern that had Tony looking like he was. “I don’t think he’d lie, though. He showed me his car in the parking garage. It’s nice.”

“Huh.” Tony shrugged and kissed Peter again. _He_ had nice cars, too. “I’m alright with you going – provided _Monica_ is, as well.”

Maybe he’d get lucky and the older woman would veto the idea. Maybe she needed him in the flower store that day.

“I’ll make sure, later,” Peter said, smiling. Tony could read the relief in his expression and felt guilty for giving the boy any more anxiety than he’d already had to deal with. “Thank you, daddy.”

“You're welcome, honey.” He leaned over for another kiss and gestured to the display. “Go ahead and get your work done. Then we’ll have lunch and spend the rest of the day relaxing.”

He would feed Peter and then remind the boy just who was the best daddy in the world. It was a fair hint that the answer to that wasn’t _Tate_.

>><<><>><<<> 

Lunch was chilidogs, eaten at the table while Tony and Peter discussed the assignment that he’d done before eating. It was a complicated math proof and one that Tony had to admit was pretty tough – especially for a 16yr old. Peter had solved it, though, and had shown the work as well as the formulas used to obtain the resulting answer. Tony had double-checked the answer himself and had then had FRIDAY check it, too.

Over lunch, the billionaire quizzed the boy about where he had learned differential equations and had been more than generous with his praise when Peter had admitted that he’d read it in a book at the library, one day.

“You’re so intelligent,” Tony told him while they worked together to clean up the dishes. You’re probably going to be the next Einstein – or Hawking, maybe.”

Peter blushed a brilliant shade of red – which Tony had found adorable, of course – and had simply stammered a disclaimer.

“ _Delivery at the elevator_ ,” FRIDAY announced, before the boy had a chance to name all the other people in the world that he thought were much smarter than himself.

Tony smiled, holding up the dishes he was holding.

“Get that, honey, will you?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Peter walked to the elevator, running his hand along Bob’s head when the mastiff decided to come see who was coming. He waited and a moment later the door opened, producing a delivery person in a snappy uniform of all black, holding a huge arrangement of roses in one hand and a large, fancy box in the other.

“I have a delivery for Peter Parker,” he said, eyeing Bob, suspiciously, even though the huge dog was merely wagging his tail.

Peter was shocked.

_“Really?”_

“That’s what the name says, kid. Is he here?”

“ _I’m_ Peter Parker.”

“Yeah? Someone must seriously love you, kid.” He handed Peter the box, first, and then the roses. “I need a signature.”

With his hands full, Peter handed the box back to the delivery guy and took the clipboard from him, signing his name, neatly and trading him, once more.

“Wow…”

The guy smiled and gave him a casual salute.

“Have a good day.”

The door closed and Peter walked over to the coffee table, setting the box down, first, and the the flowers. He could smell the roses, easily – they were permeating the entire apartment with their fresh scent, and he realized that there was a card. Pulling it from the arrangement, he opened it.

_To my Baby_

_I love you so much_

_Daddy_

Peter felt his eyes sting with unshed tears, and he looked over at the island in the kitchen. Tony was watching him, a cup of coffee in his hand and a slight smile on his face. The boy walked over.

“You bought me flowers?”

“And some chocolate,” the billionaire told him.

“Why?”

“What does the card say?”

“’I love you so much…’”

Tony shrugged.

“It must be because I love you so much, then, wouldn’t you say?”

“They’re _beautiful_ , daddy.”

The boy slid into Tony’s bubble, and the older man set down his coffee cup and put his arms around Peter, tucking his head under his chin.

“Not as beautiful as you are, honey. I love you.” He heard the boy sniff, and smiled, feeling smug, despite the tears. _Up yours, Tate._ “Let’s sit down, okay?”

“Yeah.”

They walked over to the sofa, and shooed Bob away from the flowers. The big dog went back to his bed in a huff, and flopped down, and Peter reached for the box, bringing it over his lap. It was a large box, elegantly wrapped with a real cloth ribbon of red and gold and showing a varied array of fancy chocolates of all sorts.

“No strawberry,” Tony said, bringing his arm around Peter from where he was sitting beside the boy. “I made it a point to let them know you were allergic.”

“Thank you.” He opened the box, and the chocolates were, indeed, as fancy as one could have wished for. “Wow…”

“Give me the label there, honey,” the older man said, noticing that it had the list of ingredients on it. “No sense in not making sure, right?”

He’d taken a fright the day before that he didn’t want to repeat.

“Yeah.”

Peter popped one of the chocolates in his mouth.

“What is it?” Tony asked, curiously, enjoying the look of almost ecstasy on the boy’s face when the chocolate melted in his mouth.

“Some kind of butter cream, or something.”

“Let me taste…” Tony said, leaning forward and kissing the boy, tenderly, his tongue lightly running against the boy’s lip and then sliding into Peter’s mouth, tasting chocolate and some kind of butter cream, just the like the boy said. He pulled back with a smile. “That’s pretty _good_.”

Peter blushed, but he was obviously enamored of the whole idea of tasting chocolate on _Tony’s_ lips, as well, because he offered the older man the box.

“Try one, daddy.”

“I don’t mind if I do, baby.”


	115. 115

“How was your trip?”

“It was good. Thanks.” Bruce looked over at Peter, who was somewhat subdued, but looked eager to get started on whatever the scientist needed from him. “Peter? Check the gel I made Monday and see if it’s still viable, will you?”

“Yes.”

The boy headed toward one of the small refrigerators, and Bruce turned his attention back to Tony.

“Why do you look annoyed?”

“I’m _not_.”

“Yeah? Because your expression is telling me otherwise. Something going on that I can help with?”

“No. But I would advise that if you find yourself with a large box of chocolates around Peter, you do not let him eat as many as he wants.”

It was classic redirection, but Bruce allowed it, assuming there was an interesting story behind it.

“Oh? Is that the voice of experience talking?”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“He ate most of the box before I realized what was going on, bounced off the walls for almost an hour and then had a stomachache that forced him to bed by five o’clock, yesterday.”

Which had completely ruined Tony’s plans for the evening. Of course, they had mostly consisted of spending time with Peter; playing with him and enjoying the sights and sounds of his baby being driven to climax repeatedly. Instead, he’d listened to soft groaning and whimpering as Peter learned the hard way that the very good chocolates were much more potent than the cheap stuff simply sold on the racks at the grocery stores.

Even more annoying, Tony had taken Bob out for his walk – which was _fine_ ; he hadn’t been lying to Peter when he said that he didn’t mind doing it – and had run into Tate, who was walking Buster and Boomer and asked to walk with him. Much to his annoyance, he had been forced to spend time with the young man, who repeatedly asked about _Peter_. What he liked. Favorite color. If Tony knew that they were going to Coney Island. He wasn’t subtle at all about his interest in the boy, and the billionaire had to wonder how Peter could be so oblivious.

Or If he _was_.

Needless to say, he’d been in a foul mood when he and Bob had returned to the apartment and Peter had noticed, despite his misery. The boy had asked him to come cuddle in bed with him, but Tony was agitated and unable to hold still that long. He was gentle when he’d said no, explaining that he didn’t want to disturb Peter by being restless, but the boy had still been upset at the refusal, and had turned sulky and a little sullen.

When Tony had brought dinner to him in bed, Peter had used his stomachache as an excuse not to eat, and had simply pushed his dinner around the plate, rather than eat anything – which had started an argument that had ended with Tony leaving the room in an irritated huff, and Peter curled in a ball of anxiety, definitely unable to eat, now, with his stomach tied into so many knots.

Tony had calmed down, eventually, of course.

Before, he might not have. He would have gone to his workroom, or if he was home, gone to one of the many displays around the place and had started working on a project, losing himself in his work until he was ready to face the world, again. Now, of course, he had _Peter_ to help him focus, and his need for the boy’s comfort had driven him back to his bedroom after a very short amount of agitated pacing. Only to find that the boy had drifted off into an uneasy sleep, the tray of untouched dinner on the stand next to the bed.

Tony had taken it into the kitchen and shut the apartment down for the night before returning to strip out of his clothes and join his baby under the blankets. Much to his relief, Peter had cuddled up against him in his sleep, arms and legs tangling with his own, and face immediately finding that preferred spot against Tony’s neck.

Before falling asleep, the billionaire promised himself that he’d talk to Peter the next day about his concerns regarding Tate. He didn’t want another uncomfortable day like the one they’d just gone through, and he knew he was being unfair to his baby by not communicating with him. Especially since _he_ was the one that was always harping on Peter about the importance of it.

Not surprisingly, however, Peter had a nightmare that night that left him shaken – and _shaking_ – and Tony had spent most of the remainder of the night holding the boy, trying to talk him down from the building panic attack. When they’d woken the next morning, already behind schedule, Tony had suggested they call in and stay in the apartment. Peter, however, didn’t want to miss school – and he definitely didn’t want to miss time with Bruce in the lab.

“Please, daddy?” he begged, looking so tired and worn, and unhappy at the thought, that Tony wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – deny him anything.

And he hadn’t. But he _did_ make sure the boy understood it was going to be a quiet night at home when Bruce released him for the day. He’d told Peter to go ahead and have cereal for breakfast while he took Bob out for his walk – to cut time – and by the time he’d returned to the apartment, Happy was already waiting and he didn’t have time to have that talk with Peter than he’d promised himself he was going to have.

“Is he alright, _now_?” Bruce asked, looking across the room at Peter, who was holding up pietri dishes to a light, trying to decide if they were usable.

“Yeah. Just tired, I think. We’ll make a short night of it when he’s done, here, I think.”

“ _You_ look tired, too,” Bruce told him. “And _annoyed_. If you need a break from him, let me know. He can crash at my place with me tonight – or I bet Natasha and the others wouldn’t mind him hanging out there.”

“We’re going to be at the compound this weekend,” Tony told him. “And I _don’t_ need a break from him.”

He just needed stupid Tate to go back home and allow them to get back into their happy rhythm.

Banner held up his hands in surrender and smiled.

“Just checking. Go find something to do so my assistant and I can get our work done.”

“Alright.”

“Come collect him at four-thirty.”

Tony left, and Bruce turned his attention to Peter, and the gels.

><<<><><>><> 

Peter was washing lab instruments when Tony walked into the room with Bob ambling beside him, clearly ready to go for the night. The boy noticed him with a pang, his eyes watching the man as he glanced over at him, first, and then walked over to Bruce to talk to him. He fought down the exasperation he felt when Tony didn’t come and talk to him, first. It was all about appearances. He knew that. They both knew that Natasha knew they were sleeping together, but they didn’t know if any of the others did, and Tony had to act like Peter was just the kid living with him. Despite buying him flowers and candy the day before, he wasn’t going to be able to rush into the room and hug Peter close to him like the boy really wanted him to do.

He finished what he was doing, quickly, and walked over to where the two men were talking, and Tony’s smile in greeting made Peter smile, too.

“Are you done?” Tony asked him.

Peter looked at Bruce, who nodded with a grin.

“Yeah, I’m through with him, today. You can have him back.”

The boy pulled off his white lab coat an hung it up.

“Thanks, Bruce.”

“You’re welcome, Peter. Thanks for the help.”

“Are you going to be at the compound, this weekend?”

“I’m not sure, yet. I’ll see you there, though, if I am.”

Tony put a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Come on, Peter, Happy’s double parked, waiting for us.”

Peter allowed himself to be steered out of the room, and was disappointed – but not surprised – when Tony dropped the hand from his shoulder.

“Did you have a good day?” he asked the older man, taking Bob’s lead from him.

“Yeah, honey. How about you?”

“Yes. Bruce picked up a lot of data from one of the people he’d been visiting and he let _me_ catalogue it all into the data bases.”

“He _let_ you, huh? It sounds like scut labor.”

Peter smiled.

“That’s what lab assistants do,” he reminded the billionaire.

Tony chuckled, but was silent as they walked out of the lobby and got into the car.

 _“Need to stop anywhere, boss?”_ Happy asked, over the intercom, as they were settling into the seat.

Tony looked at Peter.

“Do you mind fast food for dinner?”

“No.”

“Stop for burgers,” Tony requested.

“Will do.”

Tony patted his lap, hopefully, when the car started moving, and Peter smiled, happily, as he climbed into his arms, tucking his head against the fabric of Tony’s suit and snaking his arms under the suit to hold onto him.

“Hi, daddy.”

He heard Tony groan, softly, and felt his grip tighten on Peter.

“Hi, baby. I missed you.”

Peter trembled, happily.

“I missed you, too. Are you still mad at me?”

Tony’s lips brushed Peter’s hair.

“I wasn’t mad at you, baby.”

“Frustrated?”

“Not even that.” He heard Tony hesitate, felt his heart beating just a little faster against his ear. “I… we need to talk.”

The boy felt a surge of panic rush through him, and he sat up, a little. That was the code for _we’re going to break up_. He’d seen enough movies and read enough stories to know that.

He’d known it was going to happen, of course, but he hadn’t expected it, so soon. What had happened, he wondered? Was it because he’d eaten enough of those chocolates to make himself sick, reminding Tony that he was still pretty young and dumb? Too young and dumb for him? Was it because he refused to eat dinner the night before? He knew Tony liked to give the orders, but he’d also known that if he ate anything with his stomach feeling the way that it had, it would have come right back up.

He didn’t want Tony to have had to deal with that.

The billionaire noticed, immediately, of course. The boy was fairly easy to read, after all, and Tony knew him better than anyone alive. His eyes were filled with fear, and then sorrow.

“What’s wrong, honey?” he asked, concerned.

“We’re breaking up?”

“What? _No_. Why would you say something like that?”

Did he know something Tony didn’t? the billionaire wondered, feeling his own panic building.

“Because y… you said we have to _talk_ … that’s what you say to someone when you’re tired of them, or you’re done with them…” Peter said in a rush, his eyes liquid and his expression woeful.

“Oh, _honey_ ,” Tony tucked his head back under his chin, holding him close and feeling the boy tremble. “You watch too many movies, sweetheart. My love. I said that because we need to _talk_. Nothing more. I’ve said it _before_ , haven’t I?”

“No. You say we need to _communicate_ ,” Peter mumbled against his suit.

“Oh…” he thought back, trying to decide if that was correct, but trusted Peter’s memory on that one. “Well, then, we need to communicate. _Better_?”

Peter nodded, sniffing, and Tony hugged him close, running his fingers through the boy’s hair, tenderly, trying to calm him down a little.

Probably not the best time to discuss the whole Tate issue, really… Not until Peter was able to focus a little more. He rocked him as well as he could, given their position in the car, and turned his head, kissing the boy’s ear.

“You’re so pretty, Peter… I couldn’t give you up, and I could _never_ be done with you. I _love_ you. You’re amazing, and wonderful, and so intelligent. Not everyone can hold their own with Bruce in his lab, you know? In some ways, he’s even smarter than _I_ am. And you’re right up there with him. So smart… and sexy… and so loving.”

The words were having their desired effect om the boy. He was still trembling in Tony’s arms, but not the scared kind of trembling that Tony hated so much. This was the praise kink kicking in, which was perfect, because it was distracting Peter from being worried. It was arousing him, too, of course, but that couldn’t be helped. They went hand in hand with Peter.

“Daddy…”

“Shhh… just relax, alright?” Tony told him, holding him, close, but carefully not trying to rouse him, further. “We’ll talk – we’ll _communicate_ \- when we get home and you’re feeling a little more like yourself.”

The boy sighed, and nodded, burying his face against Tony’s shirt.

“Okay.”


	116. Chapter 116

They went to the apartment once they reached the parking garage, rather than take Bob out. For one thing, they had their hands filled with fast food that would only taste worse as it cooled, and for another, Tony told Peter that he’d taken Bob out for a walk only half an hour before he’d gone to Bruce’s lab to collect him. The dog didn’t need out.

Bob must have agreed, because as soon as he was divested of his harness, he went to his bed, sniffed it and flopped down, lazily, into it. Tony suggested they eat on the couch, and the two settled side by side, the magnificent arrangement of roses that Tony had ordered for Peter still sitting on the coffee table next to the remains of the chocolates, their perfume permeating the entire apartment – and reminding Peter that Tony _did_ love him.

“Eat, honey,” Tony prompted, setting an example by taking a bite of his burger. “We have all night, and everything is fine.”

The boy did what he was told, working his way through two burgers, fries and a milkshake while talking to Tony about the lab work that he and Bruce had been doing that afternoon. Not being that kind of scientist, Tony wasn’t that interested in the experiments, but he _was_ interested in Peter – and in Bruce, although not in the same way. When they were done eating, Peter gathered up the trash and took it into the kitchen, while Tony settled back into the sofa and closed his eyes.

He was tired, and glad that the weekend was coming, even if they were spending it at the compound rather than at the apartment.

“Daddy?”

He opened his eyes, looking up at Peter, who looked a little uncertain.

Tony didn’t give him a chance to ask the question he knew he was asking; he patted his lap and the boy climbed into it, straddling his hips as Tony knew he loved to do. Which was perfect, really, because Tony loved it when he did.

“How do you feel, honey?” he asked, brushing his fingers through Peter’s hair, lightly, as the boy settled with his head on his shoulder.

“Okay. _Edgy_?”

“Yeah… that’s my fault, and I’m sorry.” He turned his head and kissed Peter’s temple. “I haven’t been communicating with you the right way, and it’s hurting you. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Peter. You’re fine. Like I said, this one is on me. I’ve been a little jealous…” _a lot_. “And it’s making me moody and short tempered – and maybe a little over-possessive.”

“Jealous?”

Tony sighed.

“Let me ask you a few questions…”

“Okay.”

“What do you and Tate talk about?”

Peter hesitated.

“He talks about the animal shelter he works for. And playing the violin.”

“And sex?” Tony prompted, unwilling to share his secret spy network in the form of FRIDAY, but not really needing to, so far.

“Yeah. He likes porn. A lot.”

“He’s a teenager. They all like porn. I did, when I was one – I still do, really.”

“You do?”

“Sure. We can discuss that a different time, though,” he said, unwilling to get too far off the subject. “What kind of porn does Tate talk to you about? Women and men? Women and women? Or guys?”

“ _Guys_. He talks about little guys getting fucked by big guys. I think it excites him.”

“Yeah. You understand that he _likes_ you, right? And is probably thinking about you being the little guy and him being the big guy in the porn?”

Peter was so shocked that he actually sat up in Tony’s lap, hand on the billionaire’s chest, next to the arc reactor, bracing himself.

“What?”

Tony smiled at the boy’s expression.

“I take it that means it never occurred to you?”

“That he likes me? Yeah. I mean, I like him.”

“In a _sexual_ way?”

“No. I’m… I mean, I never had a lot of friends. I thought Tate just wanted to be my friend.”

“He probably _does_ ,” Tony agreed. “But I think he wants to be more than that, too, and I don’t like the idea of you being with _him_ and not with me. That’s why I’ve been acting so badly, lately, and being such an ass to you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s okay.”

“No. It isn’t, Peter. Just because I’m insecure, it doesn’t give me any right to take that out on you. Especially since it made you feel bad.”

“You’re insecure?” Peter repeated, resting his head back on Tony’s shoulder. “Why? You’re _Ironman_ … and Tony Stark… You’re amazing.”

Tony chuckled.

“Because you’re even more amazing, and I have trouble believing that someone as incredible as you are wants to be with an old guy like me, and not someone your own age. Like Tate.”

“Tate couldn’t be my daddy,” Peter said. “He’s not like you.”

“How so?”

Tony wasn’t above having a bit of a praise kink, himself, and maybe fishing for a compliment. He definitely needed reassuring, just then.

“He’s not _you_ ,” Peter told him, bringing his arms around Tony’s waist. “He’s not as handsome as you are. Or as smart. I don’t look at him and want to be held every minute I’m with him. When I’m with him, I feel like I have a friend, but when I’m with you, it’s a lot different. You’re my daddy. I love you.”

Tony hugged him, tighter, and turned his head, again.

“I love you, too, honey,” he said, sincerely. “I’m sorry.”

Peter nodded and then hesitated, again.

“I shouldn’t go to Coney Island with him, tomorrow, then. Should I?”

“Yes. Of course, you should. If you _want_ to. You can be friends with Tate, Peter. If you wanted, you could be _lovers_ with him. I’m not the one who decides that for you; only _you_ can. I’m your daddy because you let me be your daddy, but I don’t own you – or your body. Would I be hurt if you loved Tate and not me? Absolutely. But if he was really the one to make you happy, then I’d have to be happy you were with him, because I want you to be happy. More than I want me to be happy. If that makes any sense…”

“It’s complicated,” Peter admitted, thinking about it.

Tony chuckled.

“Yes. That, it is.”

“You still want to be my daddy.”

“Yes.”

“And you still love me.”

“I never stopped, honey. I love you very much.” The boy sniffed, and Tony kissed his temple, again. “Are we better, now?” he asked. “How do you feel? Still edgy?”

“No.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes. And you love me?”

“I’d do anything for you, baby. I love you that much.”

Peter smiled, snuggling closer to him, his hands coming between their bodies and wallowing in the way Tony was holding him.

“I’d like to go to Coney Island, tomorrow…”

“Then you _should_. And you should have fun. You and Tate, both. But just _friends_ fun. Not Peter and daddy fun.”

The boy smiled, blushing so hotly, suddenly, that Tony could feel it through the fabric of his shirt.

“Will you watch porn with me, daddy?”

Tony chuckled.

“Tonight?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never watched it, before.”

“What would be the most interesting, do you think? Would you like to see a woman being taken by a man? Or another woman? You can enjoy getting fucked by me, and still be interested in that kind of thing, as well.”

“I…” Peter shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that.”

He sighed, sifting his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“My baby… so _pretty_ …”

“Can we play, daddy?” Peter asked him, softly. Still uncertain.

Probably because thought Tony was tired. And he _was_. But he wasn’t that tired.

“Absolutely, honey. But let’s take Bob for his walk, first. That way we won’t be interrupted by him, later.”

The boy nodded, and reluctantly got off Tony’s lap. Bob wasn’t all that interested in a walk, but with both of them standing by the elevator holding his harness and his leash, he was convinced that it wasn’t such a terrible thing to go out once more, after all.

“Any idea what you want to do tonight?” Tony asked as he strapped Bob’s harness on him and snapped the leash before handing it to Peter and pulling a couple of plastic bags to put into his pocket.

Peter smiled.

“I want you to decide. Whatever you want to do. Not because I’m scared to say what I want, but because I want to do whatever you want to do.”

“Fair enough.” Tony felt a shiver of interest go through his entire body, all ending in his loins, which tightened at the thought of doing anything that he wanted to Peter. “We’ll discuss that when we get home, though. Okay?”

“Yes.”


	117. 117

The evening was promising rain, but it was only chilly as they set out onto the sidewalk with Peter holding Bob’s leash and the dog walking between the two – except when he wanted stop and smell a bush, or a tree.

“Are you warm enough?” Tony asked while they waited for the dog to finish marking the same tree he marked every time they went near it.

“Yes. Are you?”

The billionaire smiled.

“I _am_ , thank you.”

They were halfway around the block – which was about as far as Bob really liked to go – when they heard themselves being hailed.

_“Peter! Mr. Stark!”_

They both turned and saw Tate heading their way, with Monica and their two dogs. They stopped Bob and waited for them to catch up to them.

“HI, Monica,” Peter said, pleased to see her.

She was clearly just as happy to see him, because she handed Boomer’s lead to Tate and hugged Peter. He didn’t mind, at all. He couldn’t remember ever having a grandma and the older woman was definitely willing to take that role with him. Something that he was all for. He hugged her back, smiling.

“How are you, Peter?” she asked, pulling away and looking him over with her sharp, intense gaze that was a match for Tony’s.

“I’m good. I worked, today, in the lab.”

She knew what that meant to him, even though she didn’t know much about Bruce Banner – beyond what Peter had told her. If not for the fact that she knew how much he loved working with the scientist, Monica would have offered him a job in her flower shop, part-time, to allow him to earn some extra money.

“Good. Did you cure cancer?”

Tony smiled, but Peter shook his head.

“Not, yet.”

“May we walk with you two?”

Peter nodded, but it was Tony who answered.

“Yes, of course.”

They walked in silence for a moment, with Monica and Tony side by side and Peter and Tate a little ahead, unable to match the older woman’s pace for too long, being long-legged and a lot more active.

“They’re going to Coney Island, tomorrow?” she confirmed with the billionaire.

“That’s what I hear. Tate has a license and is doing the driving?”

She nodded, understand the concern she heard in his tone.

“He does. I taught him, myself – and bought his car for him on his birthday. He’s responsible and careful.”

Tony nodded his acceptance of that.

“Are you working in the flower shop tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Peter has my number if anything comes up. Make sure Tate understands that he can call me if he needs to. It can be intimidating to call me, sometimes.”

She chuckled, miming dialing a phone and holding it to her ear.

“ _Hello? Ironman? Yes, we’ve run out of gas, fly us some?_ I can understand why. Peter has my number in his phone, but remind him to call me, if the need arises. The flower shop is closer to the amusement park than your tower.”

“I’ll remind him.”

“Unless it rains,” she added. “Then they might not want to go.”

“Peter will,” Tony assured her, rolling his eyes and remembering how wet the boy got just checking out the helicopter and the Quinjet in the rain. “He gets chilled, but he doesn’t concern himself about the weather.”

“I might hire him out, this winter, then. I don’t always like to walk Boomer when it’s chilly.”

“He’ll be walking Bob, anyway. I’m sure he’d be willing to take care of Boomer, at the same time.”

“As long as he understands that he’ll get paid for it,” she stated.

“We can discuss it, when it gets there.”

“Fair enough.”

They finished their walk chatting about her flower shop and how her day had been, while the boys ahead of them cemented their plans for the next day. The group divided at the elevators in the lobby and Tony and Peter headed back up to the apartment with Bob.

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Tony asked as the boy took the harness off of the mastiff.

“When Monica goes to the flower shop Tate will call me and we’ll go. We’ll have lunch there, and be back here by whatever time you want us to be.”

“I’ll take Bob with me to work, tomorrow, and maybe I’ll have Happy meet you here.” He shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Okay.”

Tony ran his hand under Peyer’s sweatshirt.

“You’re chilled. Do you want to take a bath with me and warm up?”

From the boy’s blush and sudden smile, he knew the answer, immediately.

“That would be nice.”

“Yes. Why don’t you go start the water and I’ll be right there.”

“Okay.”

By the time Tony had the apartment shut down for the night – which didn’t take much time – Peter was kneeling next to the bathtub, running his hand under the flowing water. He was fully dressed, though, and Tony smiled.

“Ready, baby?”

“It’s almost there, daddy.”

The billionaire undressed himself and walked over to Peter, pulling him up into his arms after turning off the water.

“You’re so beautiful, honey,” he murmured, kissing him, gently. “Daddy’s going to undress you, now.”

The boy nodded, stepping back and keeping his eyes on Tony as the older man took off his sweatshirt, t-shirt and then pants, folding each article of clothing and stacking them on the vanity. When Peter was naked, Tony got into the tub and then helped him down onto his lap, sprawled on top of him with their bodies pressed up against each other.

“My baby’s already hard,” Tony crooned, sliding his hand between them and caressing Peter’s cock, idly, while they soaked in the hot water.

“I need you,” Peter murmured, approvingly.

“Yeah? I need you, too, honey. But not, yet. First, I’m going to play with you and enjoy your body. Is that alright?”

“M-hmm.” Peter closed his eyes, resting his cheek on Tony’s shoulder, but keeping his hips shifted enough to allow access to his eager cock. “I like that.”

“Good.”

He wasn’t in any hurry, despite the fact that Peter could feel Tony’s cock hardening between their bodies, as well. He started to reach for it, to play, too, but Tony pulled his hand away, kissing his palm before bringing it back to his side.

“I’m doing it all, right now, baby. You just enjoy it.”

Peter shivered.

“Yes, daddy.”

Eventually, Tony sat up a little and reached for the soap and a washcloth. He washed Peter, thoroughly, spending a lot of time with the boy’s rear, since he knew Peter enjoyed it. Tony smiled at the way the Peter writhed while he fingered him, playing with him and stretching him. Finally had to pull the two of them out of the bath and into the shower.

He washed the soap off, and then knelt in front of the boy.

“Daddy…” Peter moaned, when Tony took his cock into his mouth. “Please… yes…”

With the water cascading down on them, Tony sucked Peter off, quickly. Not because he was setting a rapid pace, but because Peter was already over-stimulated and aroused. He just didn’t last long.

Tony smiled, and stood up, turning Peter toward the wall and guiding his hands to support bars.

“Daddy’s going to fuck you in the shower, honey,” he whispered, sliding his hand along Peter’s crack. “Can I?”

The boy turned his head and watched him as well as he could, the water still warming him – as well as Tony’s touch, of course. He nodded.

“Yes, of course. _Please_?”

Tony groaned, pressing his stomach and chest against the boy’s wet back, sliding his cock along the small of Peter’s back, first, and then adjusting his angle a little and the head of his cock breached Peter’s crack, causing the boy to make a pleased noise and press back against him.

“There… yes… daddy… _please, daddy_ …”

He was already stretched and ready, and Tony nudged Peter’s entrance, and pressed forward, his hands pressed flat on the wall by Peter’s shoulders. The boy pushed back against his intrusion, and the head slid into Peter without much resistance, proof of just how well Tony had worked the boy in the tub.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Tony moaned, hilting himself inside the boy. “Look at you. Hot and wet and so tight for your daddy.”

“Yes, daddy. Please, daddy? I need you…”

Peter knew what drove Tony, and was willing to help the man he loved enjoy himself as much as Peter was. He pressed back as Tony pulled away, only to thrust back into him, driving him carefully against the tile.

“So fucking good. My beautiful baby.”

Tony’s pace increased, his hips jerking forward, spearing himself into Peter with loving thrust after thrust. The boy whimpered in his excitement, and the billionaire dropped a hand to the Peter’s cock, finding him hard, once more. He began stroking him, the water making the motion as easy as his thrusting hips filled the boy, over and over again.

Peter groaned and came in Tony’s hand, while the billionaire wasn’t far behind, reacting to the way Peter’s inner walls clamped down around his cock as he climaxed, triggering his own. He held the lithe, young body tightly against his stomach and chest, his cum pulsing from his cock into Peter, who had no desire to do anything other than take what he was given until Tony’s balls were emptied inside him.

“Oh, god, Peter,” he whispered, kissing the boy’s neck. “You’re so perfect honey. I love you so much.”

“I love you, daddy,” the boy assured him.

Tony sighed, replete, and pulled out, and then washed their bodies, once more, efficiently, before bringing them out of the shower and taking a couple of towels and thoroughly drying them both.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, brushing Peter’s hair, lovingly and making the boy smile.

“You are, too.”

That made Tony smile, as well.

“Come on, honey. You have a busy day ahead of you, tomorrow, and you need some sleep. Yes?”

“Yes.”


	118. 118

“In case I forget to tell you later, thank you for taking me, today.”

Peter smiled at Tate as he buckled his seatbelt.

“You’re welcome. I got the tickets for my birthday, but Tony doesn’t enjoy the rides so it’ll be fun to have someone to go on them with and not have to worry about making him sick.”

“I love to ride,” Tate assured him, pulling the car out of the parking garage and into traffic.

Peter hesitated at the odd inflection in his voice when he said it, remembering what Tony had said about how the older boy might be interested in him other than as a friend, but he couldn’t really be annoyed that the guy said he liked riding rides, now, could he?

He _did_ frown when Tate’s hand brushed his thigh when he was shifting the car, however, but Tate seemed oblivious. The older boy looked over at him.

“I’ve got something for you, Pete. Just as a surprise.”

“Yeah? What?”

Tate reached into the pocket of the jacket he was wearing and handed a small tablet over.

“Check it out. I downloaded it for you, so you could watch it – and not have to worry about being embarrassed if Mr. Stark catches you. I imagine he can track the web browser history in his apartment pretty well.”

Peter frowned, looking down at the tablet and turned it on, curiously. He blushed hotly when he saw that it was a video of two men in a shower. One was a man, anyway. The other was probably only a few years older than Peter, and was definitely more boy than man, still. The older guy was obviously fucking the younger from behind in a scene that was so similar to the position that he and Tony had been in the evening before that Peter couldn’t help but be fascinated, wondering if the two of them looked as erotic as the two on the tablet did.

Tate had been watching Peter’s reaction, closely, apparently, because he smiled, looking pleased with himself

“Yeah, I _thought_ you’d like that.”

Peter could feel his ears burning, as well as his cheeks – but also felt himself getting a bit aroused, easily picturing Tony as the man and himself as the younger and smaller guy, clearly enjoying what was being done to him and the squealing _daddy_.

“Wow.” He forced himself to turn it off, though. “Does it all look like that?”

“The good stuff does,” Tate confirmed. “Go ahead and keep watching it. I don’t mind listening to it instead of music.”

Peter turned it back on, mainly because he couldn’t think of a good excuse not to, and the drive to the amusement park was filled with scenes and sounds of young men being topped (as Tate told him it was called) by bigger, or older guys, who were clearly very good at what they were doing to their young partners.

Peter couldn’t help that he was aroused by the time that Tate pulled the car into the parking area, and the older boy _had_ to have noticed the bulge in his jeans. Peter definitely could see that Tate was feeling the effects.

“Pretty good stuff, huh?” he asked, taking the tablet back and hiding it in the center console of the car. “We can watch more, later. I have a shitload of it.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s okay,” Peter told him. “Um… Tony probably wouldn’t approve of me watching that.”

Not without him, and definitely not with Tate, no matter how exciting it was to see it.

“I’ll bet he’d be all for it.” The older boy let the subject drop, though, apparently noticing Peter’s unease. “We can talk about it more, later. Let me know if you have any questions about it.”

The walk to the admittance gate in the cold morning air helped cool Peter off. Like the evening before, there was a definite threat of rain, and the air was heavy with unshed moisture. Peter smiled, feeling pleased that _he_ was the one who was paying for them to get into the park, and would have to remember to thank Happy for the passes. He had plenty of money in his wallet, too, so he could buy lunch for them – except that Tate had already offered to do so.

They spent the morning riding every ride that turned them upside down or sent them hurtling forward at ridiculously high speeds. Tate was like Peter in the sense that he loved the rollercoasters and by mutual consent, they went on them over and over. With each ride, though Peter noticed that the older boy would sit closer and closer to him, until he was hip to hip and occasionally brought an arm over the back of their seats, fingers ‘accidentally’ brushing Peter’s shoulder or the back of his neck.

It started raining when they decided to stop for something to eat. Fat, heavy raindrops that sent most of the park attendees running for shelter in their cars, while Peter and Tate simply found an overhang to stand under while they ate their hotdogs and pizza slices.

“We could just go home,” Tate said, looking out at the rain that had already soaked both of them. Not that hard to do since Peter only had a sweatshirt and Nate’s jacket was more of a windbreaker and not a rain jacket. “My grandma’s gone; we’d have her place to ourselves. Maybe we could watch more videos…”

Peter shook his head.

“I don’t mind the rain.” He didn’t want to watch more videos. “We can _go_ , though. I have some schoolwork that I could be getting done.”

“No. I don’t mind the rain, either,” Tate told him, quickly. “If you get chilled, I can warm you up,” he added, only half-joking, his large hand going to the back of Peter’s black sweatshirt.

They finished eating, and headed back toward the rides, but the weather was closing all of the interesting ones down. They could still ride the ferris wheel – which held no interest to Peter, although Tate said they were romantic – and the merry-go-round was open, but that was definitely for kids.

“Oh well,” Peter finally said, standing inside a small restaurant while waiting for the men’s room to free up. “Maybe another time.”

“I still had a lot of fun,” Tate told him. “Don’t look so down.”

“I’m not.”

He wasn’t, either, although he was surprised when the older boy pulled him into a hug to console him. Peter froze as Tate’s arms went around him for a long moment, and his hands went to the side, not returning the hug. Tate pulled away.

“You didn’t like that?”

“No Not, really,” Peter said, honestly. “I-“

The bathroom door opened, and the occupant nodded to the two teens as he passed. Tate grabbed Peter’s sweatshirt and hustled him into the bathroom, locking the door behind them.

“What are you-“

“Relax,” he said, quickly. “I just wanted to talk to you without an audience.”

“About what?” Peter asked, stepping back against the sink.

Tate followed him, looming over Peter.

“Come on, Pete,” he said, huskily. “Don’t tell me you weren’t interested in those videos. I _saw_ your hard-on.”

“I _wasn’t_. I mean, I _was_ , but that’s probably only because it was the first time I’ve seen anything like them. I’m a teenaged boy, they say we’re always turned on by that kind of thing, right?”

“Right. Well, there are other things you can try… _we_ can try,” Tate told him, reaching for Peter’s jeans. “I want to show you. We could pick a scene and reenact it.”

“No.” Peter couldn’t back up any further, so he moved to the side. “I don’t-“

To his surprise, the bigger boy grabbed him, turning him in his arms and pressing him belly and chest against the wall of the restroom with a jolt. The hand not holding him was reaching for the button on his jeans.

“We’ll just _try_ it, Pete,” Tate said in his ear. “ _One time_. If you don’t scream from pleasure, I’ll let you go.”

“Let me _go_ , Tate,” Peter said, struggling against his grasp, but not as hard as he could. He was starting to feel a surge of panic, though, and was fighting to suppress it. And failing. “Please.”

“Don’t be a _pussy_ , Pete,” Tate grumbled. “You’ll love this. I’ll suck-“

_“No!”_

Peter wretched himself around, his strength clearly surprising Tate, whose grip on Peter’s sweatshirt tore the hood a little.

“Stop, Pe-“

“Let me go!” The panic had him, now, and Peter pushed the bigger boy away, tossing him aside, easily, and bolting for the door, unlocking it and tearing at full speed out of the restaurant, ignoring the surprised looks on the faces of the few people in the booths and heading for the park’s exit.


	119. 119

Tony was sifting through some data on the latest nanotech information coming out of the new company that Stark Industries had merged with when FRIDAY interrupted with a soft tone – to avoid startling him – and then an announcement that did.

_“Peter’s heart rate and blood pressure are off the charts.”_

The billionaire looked up from his display.

“He’s at the _amusement park_ , FRIDAY. Maybe he’s on a particularly scary ride…”

_“I’ve been monitoring him all day, boss, and making allowances for that.”_ The watch that Tony had given the boy for his birthday had all kinds of bells and whistles. Instant communication with Tony, tracking capabilities, and a biometric control to allow FRIDAY to let Tony know when Peter’s stats were high enough to indicate a panic attack. Just in case Tony wasn’t there – like when it had happened at the compound. _“This is different.”_

Tony trusted FRIDAY’s good sense. Much more than he trusted his _own_ , usually.

“Call Peter.”

There was a long pause.

_“No answer.”_

Tony stood up.

“Call _Tate_.”

Another long pause.

_“He isn’t answering his phone.”_

“Where are they?”

The display changed. Now it was a map. Using Tate’s phone, FRIDAY popped a blip on the map representing the older boy – which was heading out of the Coney Island parking area and going east. Peter’s blip (his GPS tracker in the watch) was going west.

“What the hell?”

_“Repeatedly calling Peter. No response.”_

“Stats?”

_“Higher than before. He’s_ panicking _.”_

“Yeah. Call Happy. Tell him to get the car. I’m going to go find Peter, have him meet me wherever I end up.”

There was no way that Tony was going to wait for Happy to drive him to Peter. He was _Ironman_ for a reason, right?

_“On it.”_

Tony headed for his suit.

><><><><>< 

He didn’t know where he was going. Only that he needed to _go_. The panic attacks were nothing new, really, but the abilities that he’d gain made them far more physical than they had been. As a little kid, and into his teens, a panic attack would have had him huddling in his bed in a miserable ball of agitated fear. Or _under_ the bed. Or, sometimes in the bathtub. Anyplace that let him feel safe.

Now, though, he ran. Not only because he just couldn’t hold still, but because somewhere in his mind, even in the height of his panic, he knew that he was strong enough that if he was near someone, he could really hurt them. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, and that meant not allowing them to corner him and allow him to do it.

So, he ran.

Tears of fear and the driving rain were blinding him, and he was completely unaware of the odd looks of the few people out on the sidewalks in the heavy rain. He ran through a couple of residential neighborhoods and onto a major road, hearing the screeching and squealing of tires and brakes but not paying attention – even when one car actually hit him, tossing him off his feet and sending him rolling.

He was on his feet in an instant, not even slowing as he ran toward an open area. There was sand, and in the distance, some water and no one around. Peter ran for the water.

>><><>>>< 

_“He’s on Atlantic avenue.”_

“I see.”

The trackers in the suit made it easy. Tony was still a distance away, but he had Peter in his sights, so to speak. Saw when the boy broke free of the last of the neighborhood congestion and felt his heart stop when he’d ran headlong out onto the road and had been hit, although the driver had tried everything she could to avoid him.

The boy rolled, and regained his footing, still running.

In his peripherals, Tony could see FRIDAY bring up an image of Peter’s body, already checking for injuries as well as could be done from the distance they were at.

_“He’s running out of real estate, boss,”_ FRIDAY told him. “ _We’ll have him at the water’s edge in 30 seconds, at present speed.”_

“Put a little more speed on.”

Just in case he didn’t stop at the edge of the water.

A surge of power ran through the suit, and Tony was suddenly at an angle to the fleeing boy. Allowing FRIDAY to calculate the best approach, and the perfect timing, the suit came to a hard landing just before Peter ran by it. Tony reached out and grabbed his slight frame with one arm, cushioning the impact by drawing it out to avoid hurting him.

_“Let me go!”_

The helmet retracted, even as Tony put his other arm around Peter, hugging him close to his metal encased body.

“ _Peter_! It’s me…”

He was struggling, still, brown eyes wide with fear, beautiful face bruised and scraped.

_“Let me go!”_

“Shhh,” Tony knew how to counter the panic, and it wasn’t by yelling. He held him, that slim frame so tense and holding so much power that Tony wouldn’t have had a chance if he hadn’t been wearing his Ironman suit. “It’s _daddy_ , Peter…” he crooned, keeping his mouth near the boy’s ear. “I’m here, honey. It’s daddy.”

He repeated the words, over and over, until Peter stopped struggling in his grasp. Then continued holding him while the boy sobbed. And still held him, ignoring the rain that was soaking both of them, until he finally went limp against him, and the boy’s arms finally came around him, in response to the litany of soothing words and caresses.

“I’m sorry…”

“Shhh… don’t be.”

“I just… I had to get away… and I didn’t want to hurt him, but he had hold of me, and he wouldn’t let me go, and I told him I didn’t want to-“

“Peter… it’s okay, baby.”

Another squeal of tires, this time close at hand. Tony looked up and saw Happy getting out of the car, obviously directed where to find them by FRIDAY. The driver came running over and dropped next to them, eyes concerned, and a hand coming to Peter’s back.

“Is he alright?”

Tony nodded, rainwater running down his face from his hair, dripping off his nose.

“Let’s get him in the car. Do you have any blankets?”

“Yeah. And some towels."

Tony stood up, keeping Peter in his embrace and simply carrying him over to the car and hustling him into the backseat. Before he joined him, he deactivated the Ironman suit, and it compacted enough that when Happy came around from the trunk and handed him a stack of blankets and towels, Tony was able to hand him the suit to put into the trunk and get it out of the way for the moment.

Then he joined Peter in the car.

“Let’s get you dried off, honey,” Tony crooned, softly, still maintaining his soothing manner, although the worst of the panic attack seemed to be over. He pulled the sodden sweatshirt off, taking the t-shirt at the same time and carefully starting to dry the boy with a fluffy towel, mindful of the potential for any cuts or bruises hidden in that mop of wet curls. Happy entered the back of the car from the other side.

“Here,” the driver offered, reaching for the towel and handing Tony another. “I’ll get him dried off. You’re _drenched_.”

The boy was silent as Happy dried his hair, and then tsked over the scrape on his chin, and the red marks that would certainly be bruising. The driver patted the towel against the boy’s chin with a tender look.

“You’re going to have to stop messing up your pretty face, Peter,” Happy told him with a smile. “The girls like _scars_ , but too many of them and you’ll look like the elephant man, or something. Then they’ll be running away.”

Peter smiled, too. It was a quivering one, but was a smile, finally, and Tony breathed a sigh of relief as he finished drying his hair and tossed his towel onto the other seat.

“Let’s get out of here, Happy,” he said, reaching for a blanket from the stack the driver had brought.

“Where to?”

Tony turned to Peter.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“We’ll get you checked, later.” He had seen him get hit by the car, after all, but the subsequent run had proven nothing was broken – most likely. “Let’s head to the compound.” The long drive would give Peter a chance to calm down, and once he was, Tony could find out what happened. He certainly wasn’t going to ask him in his present state of mind. It would probably only trigger a new one.

“Alright,” Happy said.

“Swing by the tower, though,” Tony told him. “I left Bob in my office. Pepper wouldn’t appreciate dog-watching all weekend. I’ll call ahead and have someone waiting with him at the lobby.”

“Got it.”

Happy brushed his hand along Peter’s wet hair, once more, and then got out, closing the door behind him and leaving the two alone. Tony picked up another towel, relieved that Happy was clever enough to make sure he had a large supply of necessities in the car, and started drying Peter’s bare upper body, looking for bruising and scrapes while doing so.

“You’re okay, honey,” he crooned, bringing a blanket around his shoulders to keep him warm as the car started moving. “We’ll get it all taken care of.”

Peter nodded, trembling, now that the adrenaline was wearing off and he was starting to feel the chill of his overheated body and the cold water. He climbed into Tony’s lap, not realizing that his soaked jeans were getting Tony wet, too. The billionaire didn’t complain. He situated his baby so he was comfortable and drew another blanket on top of the first, pulling Peter’s head down to his shoulder. Then he kissed his temple, and watched as Peter closed his eyes, still shivering, but no longer afraid.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just take deep breaths, okay? Relax and let me hold you. We’ll get Bob, and get some dry clothes and then we’ll head to the compound and go see what Natasha’s doing, yeah? She’s probably wishing you were there to keep her company.”

“Yeah.”

He smiled, and brushed another kiss against Peter’s damp hair.

Natasha was much better at questioning people than Tony was – and despite her deadly skills, she was also gentler. At least, she was gentle with _Peter_. She’d help Tony find out what triggered the panic attack.

And then they could deal with it.


	120. 120

It was a bit of a drive to the tower – especially with the traffic that they were in. Tony didn’t mind, though. A result of that was that by the time they reached the front of the building, Peter wasn’t trembling anymore, and was even willing to slide out of Tony’s lap long enough for them to open the back door and allow one of the interns to load Bob into the back of the car. The young man also handed Tony a large bag, which he took with a smile of thanks.

“To the compound, now, boss?” Happy asked over the intercom as Bob shoved his face into Peter’s chest, tail wagging as he sought some attention from the boy.

Peter hugged the dog close for a long moment, until the mastiff became bored with the attention and moved to the other seat, hopping up on it, gracefully, and flopping down.

“Yeah, Happy. Thanks.” He turned off the intercom, and turned his attention to the boy, who was still a little damp – especially the jeans he wearing. “Let’s get you out of those wet pants.”

The boy held himself still while Tony pulled the blankets aside, draping them close by, and then helped Peter take his shoes and socks off – which were also still wet – and then slide out of his jeans and his boxers. The towels were still a little damp, as well, but Tony used them to dry his baby, and then looked into the bag that he’d been given, and pulled out a pair of sweats.

“Put those on, honey,” he told him, while he got himself out of his now damp slacks and put on a pair of jeans, also from the bag that had been handed to him. His suit jacket and shirt followed, and Tony slipped on a t-shirt, instead.

Peter was in the dry sweats by then, and waited until Tony was done, but then climbed back into his lap, needing to be held.

“Daddy…”

“Are you okay, Peter?” he asked his baby, softly, pulling the blankets back over him and tucking him against his chest. “Did you get hurt?”

Peter trembled, despite the warmth of the interior of the car and the man holding him so lovingly.

“I think I got hit by a car…”

“I _know_ you did,” Tony told him. “I saw that. I mean _before_ …”

“No.”

The trembling wasn’t stopping, and Tony slid his hand under the blanket to rub Peter’s bare back, kissing his temple.

“Don’t worry, honey… we’ll talk about it, later. Relax for daddy, okay?”

“I was _scared_ …”

“Shh…  nothing can scare you, now. _I’m_ here. I’ve got you. We’re going to the compound, and it’s filled with Avengers, right?”

“Yes.”

“They won’t let you be scared, either.”

The boy nodded, and did as he was told, relaxing further in Tony’s strong embrace. Enough that he eventually dozed off, snoring lightly in the billionaire’s ear. Holding him with the one hand, Tony fished his phone out of his picket and made a few calls, quietly making sure that everything he needed was ready at the compound when they arrived. Then he shifted a little under Peter and shushed him when the motion started to wake him, caressing him until he was asleep, again.

Then he settled in, keeping his attention on the boy he was holding, but already running possibilities through his mind, since he was almost positive what – or _who_ – was responsible for the latest panic attack.

>>><><><><> 

“Peter…” the gentle voice in his ear roused him from a restful sleep.

“Hmmm…?”

He was too tired to lift his head, and he was so warm, and comfortable, that he didn’t even want to try.

“Honey, we’re almost to the compound.” The voice was Tony’s, he was awake enough to realize, now. “We need to get you dressed.”

“I’m _sleepy_.”

“I know. But I need you dressed.”

“We could drive around the block a few times…”

There was a chuckle in his ear that made him smile, too.

“Natasha’s going to be meeting us,” Tony warned him. “Do you want her to see you naked?”

“No. Yes? No.”

“I heard more noes, than yesses.” A kiss to his temple, and then the hand that was resting on his back moved, and the blankets that were covering him were moved as well. “Come on. Your sweatshirt is dry, now, so we’ll start with that.”

Peter sighed, but sat up a little in Tony’s lap, opening his eyes and watching Tony’s pretty eyes as he helped Peter pull on first his t-shirt, and then the bulkier sweatshirt.

“Thanks, daddy.”

Tony’s smile was loving, as was the hand he pressed against Peter’s cheek.

“You’re welcome. Do you hurt?”

“A little.”

“Robert’s going to meet us at the door. Him and Natasha. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Robert, because I saw you get hit by a car, and I need to make sure you didn’t break anything. Yeah?”

Peter nodded.

“Yeah. And Natasha?”

“Because she loves you almost as much as I do, and she misses you when you’re gone.”

The boy’s smile was still sleepy, but it was adorably happy as well.

“She does?”

“You know it. We’re going to get you checked out while I settle Bob, and then we’ll have dinner and see what kind of relaxing things we can find to do, tonight. Okay?”

“Are we still going to go to Dallas?”

“As long as we get you checked out, first. If you’re up for it?”

“Yes. Please?”

“We’ll see what Robert finds.”

“Okay.”

“Kiss me?”

Peter smiled, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Tony’s, his tongue sliding against the older man’s lower lip, patiently waiting for entrance into the man’s mouth. Tony made an appreciative noise and parted his lips, feeling Peter’s tongue brush against his own, teasing him for a moment before the boy broke the kiss, and leaned back.

“I’m not hurt.”

He wasn’t as tired, now, and the panic had run its course. Peter felt wrung out, emotionally, but Tony had handled him exactly right – not surprising, since he’d experienced plenty of them himself and knew what was needed to bring Peter down from his terror.

Tony’s palm cupped the boy’s cheek, carefully.

“Your face tells me otherwise, honey. We’ll make sure.”

His expression was loving, but also told Peter that he wasn’t going to let him argue with him about it. Not surprising, either. The boy was well aware that Tony took his health personally – and had since the day that he and Happy had found him in the alley.

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

Peter’s smile was automatic, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t sincere.

“I love you, too, daddy.”

The car turned, then, onto the side road that led to the compound and Peter sighed and left Tony’s lap, and then reached for his shoes and socks. His socks were dry, but his shoes were still damp and just a little uncomfortable when he put them on.

They were coming to a stop by the time he tied his laces, and looking out the window, he saw Natasha and Robert walking out of the door just as they stopped. Clearly they were watching for the car, or Happy had called when they arrived.

Tony reached over and opened the door, but Bob was the first one out, having already been untethered from his harness. Natasha reached down and rubbed the big dog’s ears when he ambled by her, but her attention – and Robert’s, as well – was entirely on Peter when he emerged, next.

“There’s my favorite spider,” she said with a warm smile on her beautiful face, opening her arms in an invitation that Peter immediately took her up on. He stepped into her embrace, and couldn’t help that he trembled, again, when her arms came around him, holding him tightly – and then even tighter when she felt him shaking. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she crooned into his ear.

“I screwed up, Natasha…” he whispered, brokenly. “Tony warned me, and I still screwed up…”


	121. 121

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I already tagged that there was an unsuccessful attempt at forced sex, but there will be discussions about it, now, so I wanted to remind readers about it so they can avoid the chapter if it's a trigger

Tony stepped forward, hand coming up, but Romanoff shook her head and waved him off with a gesture and a look. The billionaire had asked her to come meet the car, and while they hadn’t actually planned for this conversation to come up, just yet, she wasn’t going to miss the chance to take advantage of Peter’s comment to open the dialogue.

Which meant, she didn’t want Tony – or Robert – there for it to distract Peter.

“Oh, Peter…” she crooned, running the hand she’d waved Tony away with through the boy’s hair to hide the gesture. “Come on. Let’s go sit down. Okay?”

He nodded against her shoulder and allowed her to steer him toward the door, and down the first corridor, her arm still around him and holding him close to her side as they entered a small conference room. Rather than put him in one of the comfortable chairs at the table, she guided him to the small sofa and seated them in a way that the arm of the sofa supported one side, and she supported the other.

Then she set her chin on the top of his head, caressing his back, lightly, pleased to note that he was wearing the sweatshirt that she’d given him. He was literally wrapped in her warmth in every way possible, and that would only help her, just then.

The boy sniffed against her bare neck, and she felt his tears dampening her skin.

“What do you mean you screwed up?” she asked, gently.

“Tony told me Tate… liked me…”

“Tate’s the big guy with the rat-looking dog?”

He chuckled weakly at the description, but since it was fairly accurate, he nodded.

“Yes. He’s Monica’s grandson. He’s visiting her.”

“Okay. So he likes you.”

“Yeah.”

“You like him?”

“Not the way he likes me,” Peter told her. “I thought he just wanted to be friends…”

“And he wants more than that?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t know, at first. And then Tony told me that Tate keeps bringing up all this porn that he watches, because he wants me to be the little guy and him to be the big guy.”

“So he’s interested in you, sexually.”

She could feel his blush, even though she couldn’t see it, and could feel him nod.

“Tony told me that he was. But I guess I only half-believed it. I mean, I’m not that much to look at, you know?”

“I think you’re wrong about that,” she told him. “But we’ll worry about your self-esteem issues later. What did you do?”

“I invited Tate to Coney Island with me. _Before_ Tony told me about how he felt. I thought I shouldn’t go, but I really wanted to, and Tony told me it was okay to if I wanted to. Besides, I’d already invited him, so it wouldn’t be right to say I didn’t want to go after all…”

“Okay. I can see where you’re coming from on that. I don’t see where you’ve done anything wrong, though, Peter. It sounds like you were trying to be a good friend.”

The boy sniffed.

“I _wanted_ to be. Then, on the way to the park, he was showing me the porn that he has. All big guys like him and little guys like me. I didn’t know how to tell him I didn’t want to watch it, and then, after a while, I _did_ want to watch it. It was…” he was blushing, furiously, now.

“You _liked_ it,” she stated.

“Yeah. A _lot_. It reminded me of me and Tony…” he whispered, uncertainly.

Natasha smiled, hugging the boy and looking at the mirror, wondering if Robert was still with Stark and had managed to hear that comment through the two-way glass.

“That’s normal. Then what?”

“We got to the park and Tate said that he’d show me more, later, but I said Tony wouldn’t want me to watch it – and Tate said _he_ probably would like it, too. Then we rode rides, but Tate touched me… a lot.”

“Inappropriately?” she asked.

“I don’t know. _Maybe_? But maybe I was just being sensitive.”

“Did it make you uncomfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Then it was inappropriate,” she confirmed. "He shouldn’t have been anywhere near you like that.” She damped down her own very real anger, making sure he couldn’t hear it in her voice, although her expression was expressionless – and for her, that meant she was at her angriest. Or deadliest. “Then what?”

“It started raining, and Tate said we could go home. His grandma was gone and we would have her place to ourselves. He said we could watch more videos.”

“So, he was definitely coming on to you.”

“I guess. No one’s ever done it before – so I don’t _know_ , for certain.”

“Keep going…”

“I said I didn’t mind the rain, but that we could go. But I told him I’d just go work on schoolwork.”

“And he decided that _he_ didn’t mind the rain, either?” she guessed, rolling her eyes, even though Peter didn’t see.

He lifted his head, looking at her.

“How did you know?”

“Because he’s about as smooth as a piece of sandpaper, sweetheart. And that isn’t your fault. What, then?”

“We were going to ride more rides, but all the good ones were closed because of the rain, so we were going to leave. Tate said I looked sad, and he hugged me and told me not to be.”

“He hugged you?”

“Yeah. While I was waiting for the bathroom before we left. Then he asked if I liked it and I said no.”

“Good.”

“Then the bathroom opened up, and Tate grabbed me and pulled me into it, and locked the door.” Peter shook his head. “I think he ripped my sweatshirt,” he added. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll get you a new one,” Romanoff promised. “A _better_ one. What, then? Did he try anything?”

Peter nodded.

“He was all over me. He said that he knew I liked the videos, because he saw my…” the boy’s blush was furious, and he looked away, embarrassed, realizing who he was talking to and what they were discussing.

“It made you erect?”

“Yeah. I mean, I couldn’t help it. I was thinking of-“

She chuckled, surprising Peter, who looked up at her.

“You’re a _teenaged_ boy, Peter,” she reminded him. “I’m pretty sure it’s your default state – especially if you’d been shown porn.”

He nodded.

“I said something like that, too, and he told me not to be a pussy and he grabbed me, again and pushed me up against the wall and said if I didn’t like it and scream from pleasure, he’d let me go.”

“He said that?”

“Yes.”

“Then what?”

“I panicked, and pushed him away and took off.”

“Did he chase you?”

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted. “I don’t really remember much after that until Tony and Happy were there. I thought a car hit me – _Tony_ said it did.”

She put her hand on his chin, bringing his eyes up to meet hers.”

“I’m still waiting to hear how you screwed up.”

“I _told_ you. Tony warned me, but I still went.”

“Because you wanted to have a fun time at the amusement park.”

“Yes.”

“With someone who you pretty much thought was your friend.”

“Yes.”

“And then… when he tried to get you to do something that you didn’t want to do, he wouldn’t take your no for an answer.”

“Right.”

“Peter, you did everything short of screaming _stranger danger_ at him. Don’t you even _think_ that any of this was on you. You told him no, and he thought that he could make you do something, anyway. He’s lucky you didn’t throw him through the wall – no one would have blamed you.”

The boy didn’t look convinced. Not entirely, anyway. But his eyes lost the haunted look, and he wasn’t crying. It was a start.

“I didn’t handle it very well. He couldn’t have made me do anything I didn’t want to do.”

“Obviously.”

“I could have tried to reason with him.”

“Sounds like you made your view perfectly clear and he ignored you. If anything, it’s his fault for startling you and then allowing you to become panicked. When you said no, and he didn’t stop, he crossed the line – and could have gotten you hurt, running through traffic like you had been.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded.

“You trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Well, then trust me; none of what happened is _your_ fault. The only thing that you did wrong was not putting him through the wall, as far as I’m concerned – but it’s not in your nature to do something like that, I know.”

It was utterly and completely within _hers_ , however.

“Yeah. No, I mean. I wouldn’t…”

“Here’s what we’re going to do…” she told him, running her fingers through his hair and giving him her best look. Designed to put him at ease, and remind him that she was his friend. “You’re going to present yourself to Robert, so he can check and make sure you didn’t get hurt when you panicked. Then, when he’s done, we’re going to have dinner. After that, you’re going to spend some quiet time with Tony – just to make sure that you’re okay – and that _he’s_ okay, because he probably needs some reassurance, too, you know?”

Peter hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense, and he nodded.

“Okay.”

“Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, we’re going to fly to Dallas in the Quinjet and we’re going to have a great time. Got it?”

The boy smiled, excited at the thought of flying in the jet.

“Yes.”

“Feel better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Thank you for telling me what happened.”

She pulled him into a hug that lasted for several minutes, and then they separated, and got up. They found Tony and Robert out in the hallway, and the doctor silently gestured for the boy to go with him, which Peter did.

Romanoff went over to stand by Stark.

“Were you watching?”

“Yeah. Of course I was.”

“Do I kill him, or do you?”


	122. 122

Tony shook his head with a tight smile.

“We can’t kill him, Natasha. For one thing, it’d point right back at us. For another – and really, more important thing; I like his grandmother too much to cause her that much pain. And so does Peter.”

She scowled, but shrugged.

“It’s your call. He doesn’t get away with this, though.”

“We’ll see what happens,” Tony said as they started walking down the corridor toward the lounge. Might as well be where Robert would know where to find him when he was done checking Peter. They both knew the doctor would send them packing if they headed to the medlabs. “And what story Tate comes forward with.”

“Think he’d try to _deny_ it?” she asked as they walked into the lounge.

“Oh, he could _try_ ,” the billionaire said, with a humorless smile. He held up his tablet and handed it to her, pressing the display. “I wish him all the luck in the world with that.”

The display came up as they sat down at a table, and she saw that it was security footage. New York was one of the most heavily videoed places on the planet – and that included Coney Island and the buildings. FRIDAY had unfettered access to any and every electronic in the world, obviously. Romanoff and Tony watched as the two boys hid under some awning eating pizza, and then the scene switched to the inside of a restaurant of some kind, where Peter was standing near a restroom door and Tate suddenly hugged him.

The HD video had no trouble picking up on how uncomfortable Peter looked and how his arms were to the side, clearly not returning the hug and then shaking his head. There wasn’t any volume, but they didn’t need any. Even more; a moment later they watched as the bathroom door opened, and the bigger boy grabbed Peter and pretty much dragged him into the bathroom.

Minutes later the door slammed open and Peter was taking off, with Tate coming out a long moment after that, looking around.

“FRIDAY was quick to start gathering the video before anything could ‘accidentally’ happen to it. It’s pretty clear who the offending party is,” Tony said. “Besides, a size difference like that? No one would believe Tate if he said that Peter knocked him down, much less if he said _Peter_ was the aggressor.”

She scowled, but didn’t argue.

“It makes you wonder if he’s pulled something like this before…” she muttered.

“True. But at least now they’ll know not to allow him near anyone else he could, potentially, hurt.”

“Still-“

She was interrupted by Tony’s phone, and he pulled it out, looked at the caller ID and answered it.

“Monica.”

_“Tony. Please tell me that Peter’s with you?”_

“He _is_. You heard what happened?”

_“I heard_ something _.”_ Even Natasha could hear the cold fury in the older woman’s tone of voice. _“That grandson of mine came home about five minutes ago and told me a story. Before I decide what to with him, I want to know the real story. And I want to make sure Peter isn’t injured.”_

“We’re having him checked, now. What did you hear, if I may ask?”

_“That Tate misunderstood some signals from Peter and that when he acted on them, Peter became scared and ran away. Now… since I’ve never seen that boy of yours give my grandson a single ‘signal’, I’d like to know what really happened.”_

Tony gave her an abbreviated version of what he’d heard Peter tell Natasha, and the woman on the other line was quiet until he was finished.

_“He isn’t… Tate didn’t_ do _anything to him?”_

Obviously, she feared the worse – which was understandable considering the size difference between the two boys.

“Peter escaped before anything could happen,” Tony assured her. “Then he had a panic attack and took off. He was hit by a car, but it doesn’t seem too serious.”

_“That little bastard…”_ that was more to herself than to Tony, so he didn’t reply. _“Well, I’m going to confiscate his tablet and his phone, to begin with, because I’d like to verify the porn portion of things. Then I’ll call his father. What kind of charges are we looking at for this? Any idea?”_

“I don’t know, Monica,” Tony admitted. “I’m not sure what – if _any_. Peter got away before anything could happen, and a judge would probably point that out just as quickly.”

_“Well, we’ll_ see _. I’ll tell you one thing, though, I hold the purse strings in the family, so you better believe his days of free-wheeling are done. He’ll be working his ass off if he wants anything beyond the basics,_ and _I’m going to take his car, as well. He can walk or beg a ride from his folks, if he wants to go anywhere. Clearly, he can’t handle being allowed any kind of long leash.”_

Natasha smiled. She hadn’t met the older woman, but she certainly liked what she was hearing, the billionaire could tell.

“I’d say that’s a good start,” Tony told Monica. “We’re at the compound for the weekend, so you won’t see us.”

_“Well, I’ll have Tate shipped home before you get here, so Peter doesn’t have to deal with any of it, if we can save him the concern. I’ll talk to my lawyers on Monday and see what they say he’s facing – and then he’ll enter a guilty plea to whatever it is and will pay whatever comes.”_

“Thank you.”

_“You’ll let me know how Peter is?”_

“As soon as I find out.”

_“I hope you – and_ Peter _– won’t hold this against me. I-“_

“Peter loves you, Monica,” Tony assured her, sincerely. “You’re going to have to do a lot worse than have a grabby-handed grandson to get rid of him.”

She chuckled.

_“Thank you, Tony. I need to go. I’ll talk with you soon, I hope.”_

“As soon as I hear anything,” he promised. The call ended, and he put his phone away, looking at Romanoff. “Well?”

She scowled.

“It’s a _start_.”

>>><><><<><> 

“No headaches?”

“A _little_ ,” Peter admitted, honestly. “But I don’t think it’s from hitting my head, or anything. I think it’s just stress.”

The doctor nodded.

They were in the medical rooms, and he had Peter stripped down to his boxers, which had made him chuckle and Peter blush, because they were red and gold boxers with little Ironman guys adorning them, front and back.

Robert had checked the boy for bruises and cuts, but had only found a few areas of injury and none were serious. He’d ordered a complete set of x-rays, though, just to be on the safe side. Now, he was simply asking him questions to make sure his own primary diagnosis was the correct one.

“Yeah? Well, take some over the counter stuff if it doesn’t fade after a while. If you still have it, tomorrow, make sure you let me know. Understood?”

“Yes.”

The doctor gave him a serious look.

“I don’t need to check under your Ironman boxers? He didn’t get that far?”

Peter blushed, but shook his head.

“No. I’m alright.”

“Well, since I have you here, let me see that hand.”

They talked about the rides at Coney Island while Robert took the stitches out of Peter’s hand from his burning taxicab incident, and the boy smiled when the doctor pointed out that if he kept it up, Peter was going to break a record for most visits to his infirmary. Which was saying something considering it was the Avengers, after all.

“Go ahead and get dressed,” he told them. “I’ll finish the chart notes, and then deliver you to the lounge. I want you to eat a big meal, alright? Even if you’re not hungry. Then I want you to have a quiet evening – like Romanoff said; you should spend it making sure Tony’s alright. I’ll check you again before you go to Dallas in the morning.”

“You’re not going?”

“ _I’m_ going to watch your dog for you.”

“Really?”

The doctor smiled.

“I’m looking forward to it, really. Happy told me that dogs are chick-magnets, so Bob ad I are going to the dog park and we’ll test it.”

Peter had been putting on his pants, but he hesitated.

“Monica has a dog…”

“That’s the woman that lives under Tony?”

“Yeah. She’s older, but she’s nice.”

“I’ve heard about her,” Robert told him, smiling and reaching for Peter’s shirt. “I doubt I could keep up with her, though. Finish getting dressed. I’m hungry.”


	123. 123

Natasha and Tony had been joined by Happy by the time Peter and Robert met with them in the lounge. Bob was under the table, warming Tony’s legs and feet, and Peter heard his tail thumping the floor in cheerfulness when the boy took the spot beside Tony and reached under the table, blindly, to pet the big mastiff. Then Tony caught his hand before he could move it and he squeezed Peter’s hand, lightly, before letting it go so he could take a drink of the coal sitting in front of him, already.

“Well?” Natasha asked before the billionaire could. “How is he?”

“A few bruises and scrapes,” the doctor replied with a shrug. “Nothing more. He has a headache, but we’ll see if stuffing him full of a good meal and sending him to bed early can deal with it before we try any kind of medication.”

Happy looked at Peter.

“You _look_ better.”

The boy smiled.

“Thanks for coming for me.”

“You’re welcome,” the driver told him, sincerely.

“ _I_ came for you, too,” Tony pointed out with a slight smile.

“Thank _you_ , too,” Peter said, feeling the love of the people around him blanketing him.

“Are we ready to eat?” one of the servers asked, coming over to the table. “The kitchen’s up and running.”

It wasn’t much of a variety, as far as the menu went, there, but Peter didn’t mind. He was always willing to eat a burger, after all. Tony and Robert both vetoed that, however, and suggested something a little healthier. He ended up with baked chicken, potatoes and corn on the cob, but there was a lot of it, and it seemed everyone around him insisted that he eat another serving when the first vanished fairly quickly.

The talk at the table was about the trip to Dallas the next day. During the course of the meal, Steve joined them, giving Peter a thorough once-over as he sat down next to Happy, but not mentioning what had happened at Coney Island, although the boy was sure he’d heard about it.

“Tony’s going to be at the manufacture’s for a while,” Steve said. “So you’re going to hang out with us while he is.”

“Oh?”

Peter looked at Tony. Who shrugged.

“It’s a fairly specialized material,” the billionaire explained. “If word got out, somehow, that it’s what your Spiderman suit is made of, we don’t want anyone connecting the guy hanging out with me – who just happens to be the exact same size as the Spiderman.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

“We’re probably just being overcautious,” Tony admitted. “But it’s better to be careful.”

“Besides,” Natasha added. “That means Steve and I get to show you around. You never been to Dallas, right?”

“I’ve never been _anywhere_ , really,” Peter admitted.

“You’ll love it,” Rogers promised. “Natasha knows all the good places.”

“ _Museums_?” Peter asked, hopefully, his brown eyes lighting up.

“He said the _good_ places,” she told the boy, amused. What a _nerd_. “Shopping centers and malls.”

“There’s the Heritage Village,” Robert added. “It’s a frontier town, basically. Or the zoo.”

“Peter doesn’t want to _learn_ ,” Romanoff said, smiling, because she could see that the boy was interested in all of those things – far more than he was in shopping. “He can learn _here_.”

“He can _shop_ here, too,” Steve pointed out. “I’d rather go to a frontier town or a zoo than spend the day watching you try on shoes.”

“And if it were lingerie?”

“Then I’d go _shopping_ ,” Rogers said, immediately, with a smirk. “But, since it isn’t, my vote is frontier town. Or the zoo. Peter?”

The boy glanced at Natasha, who smiled, cheerfully, to let him know that she didn’t mind being overruled.

“I’ve never been to a frontier town… or the zoo,” he added.

Steve’s look was triumphant.

“Frontier town,” he said. “I want to dress up like a cowboy. Peter?”

“Yeah.” The boy looked at Natasha, hopefully, and she rolled her eyes.

“Fine. But we go shopping when we come home.”

“Deal.”

“Well, with that settled, Peter and I are going to take Bob out and then settle in for the night,” Tony told them all, standing up. “When are we leaving in the morning?”

“Early,” Steve replied. “Breakfast at eight, flight deck by 9 o’clock.”

“Sounds good. Goodnight.”

The others said goodnight, as well, as Peter and Tony collected their lazy dog and left the lounge.

“He’s okay?” Steve asked, watching their retreating backs.

“Yes. Seems to be,” Robert answered.

“And the other kid?”

“We’re not there, yet,” Romanoff answered, evasively.

>>><><>><>>< 

“How’s the head?” Tony asked, reaching out and brushing his fingers, lightly, along Peter’s brown curls.

“It’s not as bad.”

“And your hand?”

The boy showed him, and Tony took it while they walked, examining the marks left by the stitches – and the few little bloody spots from having a particularly deep one removed.

“It’s fine. Barely hurts, at all, now.”

The burn was completely healed, by then, and the rest would be faded to faint scars in a matter of days or a week.

“Good.”

As he promised, Tony called Monica, then, and let her know how Peter was doing. The boy insisted on talking to her, assuring her that he felt okay and that, no, he wasn’t hurt. She apologized to him, but Peter had been quick to tell her that she didn’t have anything to be sorry for, and had made sure she believed him before they ended the call.

Bob was quick to do his business, and they stood close together while they watched the dog wander around the little treed area. Tony was a protective presence beside Peter, who was suddenly just exhausted by the events of the day and the large meal that was warming him from the inside out. He leaned against Tony, silently asking to be held, and the older man put an arm around him, lightly.

“You okay?”

“Just worn out. You?”

“Yeah. The same. It’s been a long day.”

“Please don’t make me sleep alone, tonight,” he pleaded, unable to keep his voice from registering a little higher than normal in his dismay at the thought. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re going to sleep with me,” Tony assured him. “No one will even know, probably, but they would definitely understand, even if someone came looking for you and didn’t find you in your bed.”

Bob walked over, wagging his tail and ready for bed, too. They walked to Tony’s quarters, and the billionaire locked the world away from them once they entered his rooms. Bob headed for his bed against the wall, and Tony guided Peter to the bedroom.

“We didn’t get a chance to pack you any clothes,” he reminded Peter. “Happy went out and bought some, once he dropped us off, earlier, so you’ll have something to wear, tomorrow.”

“That was nice of him,” Peter said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, he’s a thoughtful guy. Go get ready for bed,” Tony said, pulling him back to his feet before he could get too comfortable, and pushing him gently toward the bathroom. “Clothing is optional.”

He watched as Peter went into the bathroom, and worried about any emotional side-effects from the events with Tate. He hadn’t been sure that Peter would want to cuddle with him – much less be close to him, and when he mentioned the concern to Robert, the doctor had advised that he just let Peter set the tone and that Tony should watch for nonverbal cues when deciding how to proceed that evening.

When the boy came out of the bathroom wearing only the pair of sweats, Tony stood up and hugged him, pressed a kiss against his temple and then told him he’d be right there; he just wanted to brush his teeth.

Peter nodded, and when the older man joined the boy in the bed a few minutes later, a hand along the boy’s side under the blankets told him that the sweats had been shed.

“You’re so wonderful, Peter,” Tony whispered in the dark of the room, only the glow of his arc reactor casting any light on the two of them. “So brave.”

Peter sighed, and closed his eyes, cuddling tightly against Tony, and bringing an arm around him, to hold him as well, remembering that Natasha had said Tony might need reassuring, too.

“I love you, daddy…”

“I love you, too, honey,” Tony told him, guiding Peter’s head to his shoulder, and pulling the blankets up to tuck around them, making sure Peter was covered by blankets and touching as much of Tony’s bare skin as he could.

“Are you warm enough?”

“Yes, daddy.” His eyes were already closed, but his hand came to rest on Tony’s chest. “Say the things I like…?” he requested, softly, making Tony smile.

“You mean when I say that you’re smart?” he asked, lightly, caressing Peter’s back. “And when I remind you just how pretty you are?”

The boy shivered.

“Yes.”

“And how beautiful and clever my baby is?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“You’re all of that,” Tony told him. “And amazing. Perfect.”

Peter whimpered.

“Thank you.”

Tony kissed him, lovingly, and then brushed his lips against the boy's eyes, one by one, closing them with the gentlest of touches.

“You’re welcome, baby. Go to sleep, alright? I want to make sure you’re rested for tomorrow.”

“Okay…”

He continued to hold onto Tony, not quite desperately, but tightly, until he finally drifted off. And even then, his hand never lost contact with the older man’s skin.

Tony made sure he was asleep, and then went to sleep, too.


	124. 124

“You look tired.”

Tony reached for a cup of coffee, nodding to Natasha, who had joined him, immediately, when the billionaire had walked into the lounge a little earlier than expected.

“I _am_ tired. We were up – off and on – all night.”

“Was Peter having nightmares?”

“No. _I_ was.”

She nodded her understanding of that, and reached for a coffee cup, as well.

“Where is he?”

“Took Bob out. He’ll be here in a minute.”

They’d spent the night in each other’s arms, Tony and Peter had. The older man had woken only hours later, though, images of Peter getting hit by the car and having been hurt much, much worse than he actually had been yanking him from his restless sleep.

Peter, bless his exhausted soul, had woken, immediately, and gathered Tony into his arms even tighter, crooning loving words to him and brushing his fingertips against Tony’s cheek and temple until he’d settled back into sleep, once more.

Then his nightmare had been Tate actually succeeding with what he’d tried, and once more it had been Peter who lulled him back to sleep, reminding Tony softly that he was absolutely fine and was right beside him. Tony was just as susceptible to nightmares and panic attacks as Peter – even _more_ so, really – but each time one tried to gain the upper hand, Peter had been there to keep it at bay.

Tony was tired, but it could have been worse. Once he had some coffee, he'd be fine.

“How is he doing?” Romanoff asked as they walked to the table that also held Steve, Fury and Robert.

“He says he feels fine.” Tony smiled. “He’s bouncing off the walls excited about the flight. He’s already wearing his flight suit and has tried two different sweatshirts under it, trying to decide which one is _cooler_ with it.”

All of them smiled at that, and then a commotion at the door drew their attention and the adults watched as Peter entered the room with Bob. Sure enough, the teen was already dressed in his flight suit, wearing a blue hooded sweatshirt under the leather outfit. The boy glanced around, found the group he was looking for, easily, and then walked over and smiled a greeting to all of them as he sat down in the chair beside Tony’s.

“Looking _good_ , Peter Parker,” Steve said, noting the smile with approval.

Peter flushed, cheerfully.

“Thanks, Steve.”

“That’s the wrong color sweatshirt, though,” Natasha pointed out. “All the _cool_ spies will be wearing _black_ under their black leather.”

“I ripped the black one,” Peter reminded her. “So-“

She pulled a small bundle of cloth from a bag under the table, and tossed it over to him. Peter caught it, and smiled, opening it to find that it was a black hooded sweatshirt with an Avengers A on the upper right, over the chest.

“There. Like I promised,” she told him. “Even better than the one that was ripped.”

“Thanks, Natasha.”

“Change into it later,” Tony suggested, rolling his eyes, because he hadn’t really liked the _first_ black sweatshirt, and now he knew Peter would be wearing the new one, even more. “Let’s eat; I’m hungry.”

Peter nodded and accepted a glass of orange juice from a server, who then told them breakfast would be brought out in a few minutes. While they waited, Robert took over the conversation, asking Peter a few questions about how he felt and if anything hurt more that morning than it had the evening before.

Peter assured him that while he did ache a bit more, he felt good. The doctor had watched him walk across the room, and hadn’t seen anything to make him concerned enough to actually demand a chance to look him over.

“How’s the head?”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good.”

Then breakfast came, and the conversation changed to the trip.

“When we’re done eating, you need to go pack a bag with street clothes,” Steve told him. “We can’t go to Frontier Town dressed like that. We want to try to blend in with the crowd.”

Peter nodded.

“We’re _really_ going to check it out?”

“We looked it up,” Natasha said, smiling, as she worked her way through pancakes and sausages. “It looks like it might be fun.”

“Tony will come find us when he’s done, and if we’re wrong and it’s lame, we’ll find something else to do.”

“If we’re having a good time, though, then we’ll nag him into dressing up like a cowboy,” Natasha added.

“I want to be the _sheriff_ ,” the billionaire told them, with a smirk, not at all worried about the idea of playing dress up with them. “I’m too amazing to be a mere cowboy.”

Peter smiled.

>>>>>><><><>> 

“Now, don’t let him talk you into too much food,” Tony warned, standing at the rear of the Quinjet. “He’ll get fat.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t let him laze around all day. Keep him occupied, or he’ll be bored.”

“I _will_.”

“He needs attention. You can’t-“

“I can watch your dog without a list of instructions,” Robert assured Tony with an amused snort. “From what I understand, he’s pretty easy-going.”

“He is,” Peter assured the doctor, crouched in front of Bob to give him last minute scratches. The boy was now dressed in the black sweatshirt and had packed jeans and a t-shirt, as well as his tablet, just in case. “But he’ll try to talk you into extra treats, if you’re not careful.”

“It’s those big, brown eyes of his,” Tony added. “They’re irresistible.”

Of course, _Peter’s_ were, too. Which was why Tony was in danger of spending his afternoon dressed as a cowboy.

“I’ll take good care of him,” Robert assured them, both.

Peter wasn’t worried.

“There’s a lot of toys for him in my room; and some chew things, if you want.”

He got up and went to stand by Tony.

“We’ll be back late tonight,” Rogers told Fury and the doctor.

“We’ll leave the light on.”

The boy practically skipped up the ramp and into the jet when Steve gestured for him to, and the others followed at a much more sedate pace, once they’d said their goodbyes to Fury, Robert and Bob. He was standing by Natasha, who was doing a preflight, when Tony and Steve joined them.

“We’re going to land at Dallas Fort Worth and take cars from there,” Steve told Peter – since Tony already knew. “Tony’s going to go do what he needs to at the fabric place, and he should be done by lunch.”

“Which is when I will join you in cowboy country,” Tony added. “And I will, of course, be readily available if you want to call me and say hello.”

“Let’s get going,” Romanoff said, starting the engines of the powerful jet. “Peter? Make sure Tony’s buckled in, tight, will you? We don’t want to lose him out the back somewhere over Tennessee.”

The boy smiled, well aware that he was the one who was going to need help.

He and Tony went to the back of the jet, while Steve settled into the copilot seat. Tony showed Peter the harness and buckled him in, then sat beside him and secured himself.

“You okay?” he asked the boy, unnecessarily.

Peter nodded.

“You?”

“Much better, thanks to you.”

The boy smiled at that, leaning into Tony’s side.

“Thank you for bringing me with you.”

An arm slid around behind Peter’s back, holding him, surreptitiously.

“I’m glad you are coming.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. I can’t wait to see you in chaps.”

Peter grinned.

He couldn’t wait, either, but for entirely different reasons.


	125. 125

The flight was exhilarating for Peter.

Once they were in the air, Steve joined them in the back and told Peter to unbuckle and come up front. The boy was settled in the co-pilot seat next to Natasha and given a chance to watch the scenery passing by – from a much higher altitude than the flight in the helicopter had been. He was handed a headset – although the jet was quiet enough that he didn’t, technically, need one to be heard, but Romanoff knew that it would add to the excitement of the experience if it was all-out, with all the bells and whistles.

Then Steve took a photo of the two, and sent it to Tony, who was napping in his spot – well aware that the others could entertain Peter during the flight and smart enough to know to sleep when he could. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, after all. He roused long enough to look at the picture with a slight smile and have FRIDAY send it to Peter, as well, in case Steve hadn’t thought to do so.

Then he went back to sleep.

Peter listened to the radio traffic of the commercial airliners as the Avenger jet flew well above them, the jet more than capable of stealthy flight, but not bothering at the moment. Steve pointed to the button that would allow him to join in on those conversations and reminded him that they didn’t want to hear the chatter of a sixteen-year-old and so he probably shouldn’t press that one. The boy had grinned and nodded his understanding, before being showed the button that allowed him to talk to the rest of the flight crew.

Which was _Natasha_ , at the moment.

Natasha brought up a real time map onto the HUD for Peter so that he could keep track of their progress as they flew. The boy watched everything, eyes glued to the scenery one moment and the display the next. He pulled his phone and took pictures of the landscape below, even though the only people he could think of to send them to were Bruce and Monica – which he did.

The older woman sent him back an emoji of someone being airsick, which made him laugh, and he replied with another emoji and told her he’d bring her back a souvenir.

Then he put his phone away and enjoyed the flight.

>>><><><><> 

“So make sure you double-check what he eats, if you guys eat anything.”

“I’m _fine_ , Tony,” Peter assured the older man as they were standing by the two rental cars. “I’m not going to eat anything with strawberries.”

“You have your epi pen, though? Just in case?”

“Yeah.”

“He’ll be fine,” Natasha said, confidently. “We’ve saved the world a dozen times; I think you can trust us to hang out with Peter for the rest of the morning without letting him get hurt.”

“I _do_ trust you guys,” Tony said. “It’s _Peter_ who has the poor track record.”

He winked at the boy to remind him that he was only joking, but Peter wasn’t hurt. He just smiled.

“We’ll see you, soon?”

“Absolutely. I made sure you have money in your wallet. Have _fun_ , okay? Keep these two out of trouble.”

Peter shook his head, but he appreciated it. He’d never needed to buy souvenirs before, but he was sure he was going to want some before the day was out.

“I will.”

They were all wearing street clothes, now. Jeans for everyone but Tony, t-shirts on Steve and Peter, with Natasha in a polo shirt and Tony wearing a sharply tailored suit – for the moment, at least. He had a more casual long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans for later, but he was going to be doing business and preferred to dress the part.

He’d change before joining the others in Frontier Town.

“Are we ready?” Steve asked, moving to the driver’s side of their rental.

Tony watched as Peter and Natasha moved over to join Rogers, and decided that they probably wouldn’t have to much trouble passing for a regular family, really. Rogers was the most well-known of the three (obviously) but in Dallas, and not wearing his uniform, he was just a muscular, too good-looking for his own good guy. Natasha, equally away from home and causally dressed, was gorgeous, and maybe too pretty to be real, but wouldn’t be hounded by autograph seekers, most likely.

Throw Peter into the mix, and they could probably pass for a family, even though the boy didn’t exactly look like either of them.

“Have fun,” Tony told them. “Let me know if the place sucks, and I’ll have FRIDAY come up with something better.”

They parted, and Peter got into the back of the car, while Natasha took the passenger seat in the front.

“You know where you’re going?” she asked Steve.

He smiled, looking at Peter’s reflection in the rear-view mirror.

“No clue. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

>>>><<><><><< 

They didn’t have any trouble finding the place. The GPS in the rental directed them almost seamlessly to where they wanted to be, and the place was big enough that it wasn’t going to be missed once they got close.

“Wow…”

“It was large. Half of the park was dedicated to a few rides; including a modern roller coaster, Ferris wheel and other staples, as well as a carnival area with games and food. The other half of the park was basically an old west town; complete with dusty streets, old-time buildings with hitching posts out front (with horses, Peter noticed, immediately) and a hundred different things to do – including shopping, Romanoff noticed, immediately.

Steve paid for all of them to get in – purchasing double passes, since he figured they could always play games or eat if the frontier side was a disappointment. He wasn’t big on roller coasters – they weren’t exciting for him, but it was always an option if Peter wasn’t interested in riding a horse, or checking out the saloon, or the shops.

He _was_ , though.

With Natasha and Steve trailing behind, Peter dove headlong into the first building they reached, which turned out to be a shop dedicated to allowing the visitors to Frontier town look like they belonged there. Mainly, they sold cowboy hats, leather jackets and all things that screamed _old west_. The day was warm enough that even Peter was fine without a sweatshirt, so the jackets weren’t even a consideration. He and Steve immediately started trying on cowboy hats, however, both leaving the final say up to Natasha, who enjoyed watching them but told them she wasn’t going to flatten her hair with a hat of her own.

They walked out of the shop with Peter in a brown, leather cowboy hat, that dipped low in the front – which he thought made him look sinister (but didn’t) and with Steve in a white hat that reminded him of the Lone Ranger’s.

Besides, he reminded them; the good guys always wore the white hats. It was tradition.

Their next stop was the salon, and it was a big building that dominated the main street. There were the typical swinging doors, and Peter led the way into the place, grinning as they looked around.

A large bar dominated the far wall – with a sign that said no minors allowed – but there were several tables with chairs, a small dance floor and a large, open area that was covered with safety mats that centered around an odd-looking contraption that had a saddle of sorts on it.

“What’s that?” Peter asked, looking at it.

“A mechanical bull,” Steve told him. “How have you never seen one, before?”

The boy shrugged, reading the sign, and looking excitedly at the thing.

“Can I try it?”

Natasha frowned.

“No. You’ll get thrown off, land on your head and then we’ll have to listen to Tony bitch and moan about letting you get hurt.”

“I won’t land on my head,” Peter told her. “Look at all the mats…”

“They’re just for show,” Steve said. “They’re probably filled with rocks, or something.”

“He won’t get hurt,” one of the workers assured them, having been walking by in time to hear the conversation – and more than willing to pause to talk to them, since Natasha was a good distraction from anything he’d been doing. “It’s safe.”

Peter grinned; his big brown eyes suddenly hopeful as he turned toward the assassin.

“Please?”

Steve noticed that Natasha’s expression went from uncertain to something entirely different, and realized that the spy had somehow been completely done in by the boy. His smile was amused, because he knew that she wasn’t going to say no to anything Peter wanted. Which was proven only a moment later.

“Fine. But we start on the easy level, first, jut to make sure it’s not too dangerous.” Then she scowled at Rogers. “ _Shut up_ , Steve.”

“I didn’t _say_ anything,” he pointed out, looking smug.

“You didn’t _have_ to.”


	126. 126

“Well, he took to _that_ , didn’t he?”

Natasha smiled, watching as Peter clung to the mechanical bull with ease, clearly enjoying himself. Even waving his new cowboy hat with his free hand.

“You _think_?”

“Think it’s the spider thing? Or does he just have strong legs and a good grip?”

She shrugged.

“Maybe the spider strength is all he needs. _You’re_ as strong as he is, right? Go try and see how long you can stay on. Then we’ll know.”

“No. I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I’d never get on one of those things, again. And I intend to keep it.”

Romanoff gave him an interested look, and when he didn’t say anything else, she made a face.

“ _Well_? Are you going to tell me why?”

“No. It’s too painful, even now. Just assume the one in _my_ story had horns on it, and when I went over the ‘head’ it caught parts of me that still shrivel to this day whenever I see a cow with horns.”

She chuckled.

“Enough said. I-“

“Is that your son?”

They both looked up to see that they’d been joined by a couple of men wearing cowboy hats and full beards. Not the _I’m too lazy to shave, so I’ll just grow the facial hair out, instead_ kind of beards; these were neatly trimmed, and the clothing the men had on was of fine quality. They were both switching their gazes between Steve and Natasha and then to Peter, who was still having a good time on the mechanical machine.

“Yes,” Natasha said, before Steve _I cannot tell a lie_ Rogers had a chance to speak up. “Is there a problem, gentlemen?”

The two shook their heads, smiling.

“We have a bet going,” one said.

“Oh?”

“My friend here thinks your son could last on the mechanical bull for 8 seconds – on the _expert_ setting. I think he’s mistaken.”

“How much is your bet?”

“Ten thousand dollars.”

Romanoff shook her head, amused more than anything. Tony had more money than God, too, but at least _he_ was doing something with himself. These guys were wasting themselves sitting in a bar (a family friendly one, yes, but still a _bar_ ) betting on the stupidest of things.

“Then you have a problem, don’t you?” she asked them.

“We don’t _have_ to, though,” the first told her, realizing that she was the one to speak to in this instance. “Your son could help us settle the bet. In eight seconds.”

“Or _less_ ,” the other added.

“But then that would make your problem _his_ problem…”

“We’d make it worth his while. And _yours_.”

Romanoff leaned forward, her expression making Steve keep a tight rein on _his_ expression, because these men were about to either say the wrong thing and find themselves on the wrong end of Natasha’s temper, or were about to make her day. He pushed the brim of his hat down lower, hopefully hiding his features a little, and sat back to watch.

“I’m listening…” Romanoff said.

><><><><>>>< 

“That was quick.”

Tony nodded, smiling over at Peter and touching the cowboy hat he was wearing. God, he looked adorable in it.

“They had everything ready for me. It was pretty much grab and go. The materials I wanted are safely in the rental and I’m free to spend the rest of the day with you guys.” He was even dressed in jeans and the long-sleeved t-shirt, now. “What did I miss?”

“We bought _hats_ ,” Peter told him, unnecessarily.

“I _see_ that. You look great.”

The boy smiled.

“And Nat here hustled some of Dallas’ finest in the saloon,” Steve added.

“I didn’t _hustle_ anyone,” the assassin told Tony. “I helped them settle a gentlemanly wager they had going between _them_ – and allowed Peter a chance to get some exercise at the same time.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“You probably _should_ ,” Steve replied.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “They were watching Peter ride the mechanical bull and were betting – between each other – that he couldn’t stay on for the maximum amount of time on the expert level.”

“So…?”

“So she told them that if they wanted to settle the bet, then the winner – _whichever_ way it went – would have to split his winnings with Peter, since he was the reason for the win.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know, Tony,” Peter told him. “I just-“

“He _didn’t_ know,” Natasha confirmed. “All _he_ knew was that I told him that he could try the expert level – if he _wanted_ to.”

“Which he _did_ , right?” Stark guessed.

“Of course.”

“And…?”

“Oh, he stayed on even past the eight seconds so there was a clear winner. Who then paid up before they both left, shaking their heads.”

“How much?”

“Five thousand.”

“ _Dollars_?”

“Yep.” She pulled out a large stack of hundred-dollar bills and handed it to him. “You might want to hold onto that for him, for now, at least.”

Tony scowled.

“I _already_ told him that we couldn’t hustle people at the driving range.”

“You weren’t paying attention to the story, Tony,” she said, reasonably. “I didn’t _hustle_ anyone and neither did Peter. He just helped them settle a bet as an uninterested 3rd party observer.”

“And made five thousand dollars in eight seconds,” Steve added.

“Minus a commission?” the billionaire asked, curiously.

“Of course not.” Romanoff smiled, fondly, at Peter before turning back to Stark. “College isn’t cheap. You can’t start planning too early.”

“You let her do this?” Tony asked Steve.

“I didn’t have any say in the matter, one way or the other.”

“You’re going to let him keep the money, right?”

“Of course, I am.” He smiled at Peter. “No more complaining, or annoyed looks when I put money in your wallet, now. It’ll be coming from the _Dallas mechanical bull riding fund_. Got it?”

The boy nodded.

“Okay.”

That was fair, after all. It wasn’t like he could find the man who had bet so foolishly and return his money to him – and he would feel better about Tony giving him money if it was his own money.

“So you guys found the hat store and you found the saloon,” Tony said, looking around the main street. “What else is there?”

“A lot we haven’t looked at, yet,” Peter said, holding up a flyer that had all of the vendors listed as well as activities. “We could learn to rope, learn to ride horses, catch greased pigs – although I don’t know why anyone would want to do _that_ – we can have a hayride, and do a photo in real western apparel.”

“Is there a place to eat _lunch_? Aside from the saloon?”

“There are several restaurants,” Steve confirmed. “Are you ready to eat, now?”

Tony shrugged, smiling at Peter.

“Let’s look around a little, first. Then we’ll be able to see what – and _where_ – our options are for lunch.”

“Do you want to learn to ride a horse?” Peter asked as they all fell into step, heading up a real boardwalk. His big, brown eyes were looking at all of them, hopefully, and there was no doubt that he wanted to give it a try – but didn’t want to try it alone. “It probably wouldn’t take too long to learn…”

“I already know how to ride,” Tony told him, resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder, fondly. He saw the surprised look on the others’ expressions and shrugged. “What? I was a rich kid. That’s what rich kids learn, first. How to ride. Peter, if you want to go riding, I think that we’d love to go ride with you. Right, everyone?”

The other two didn’t look entirely convinced, but they both eventually nodded.

“Sure.”

“But first, I want to buy myself a hat,” Tony told them. “Show me where to go.”


	127. 127

“Look, Natasha!” Peter yelled, startling the horse that was under him and making the creature shy, sideways. “I’m a _cowboy_ …”

The last was added a bit softer, and the hand that he’d raised, excitedly, went back to the saddle horn in front of him, holding tight until he was sure the horse wasn’t going to do anything too crazy.

Romanoff wasn’t the only one to smile at him. He was so serious, most of the time, that it was fun for them to see him letting his good nature come to the front and allowing himself to enjoy what he was doing. Which, at the moment, was clinging to the saddle of a sleek palomino horse that was showy enough to look flashy, but was easily as good-natured as the boy in the saddle.

Riding right beside him, now sporting a brand-new cowboy hat (a _black_ one, which didn’t really surprise any of them) was Tony. The billionaire was riding a black horse, chosen because he matched the new hat, and was sitting easily in the horse’s saddle, his seat and posture proving to all of them that riding a horse was like riding a bike, apparently.

Bringing her phone up to take a few pictures, Natasha’s smile was as broad as Peter’s. The Avengers didn’t get a lot of days to play like this, either, and she and Steve were truly enjoying the short holiday.

Well, _she_ was enjoying it a little more than Steve.

Reminding them that that someone should be on the ground and taking photos, Natasha had declined the horseback riding. Steve had offered, but his phone was a dinosaur and Romanoff’s had a much better camera. So Tony and the superspy had watched as a couple of wranglers had set Steve and Peter up with a quick lesson and had then tossed the boy up onto the palomino’s back and had allowed Steve to clamber into the saddle of a calm bay colored horse with a white blaze that ran down its nose.

When the two were more or less comfortable, Tony had gracefully mounted the black horse and they’d gone for a ride around the confines of the old west side of the park, and were just returning.

“You look _great_ , Peter,” she assured him, waving back.

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Steve complained.

“You look great, too, Steve.”

Rogers smirked, looking over at Tony, who rolled his eyes and pushed his hat back.

“I _know_ I look great,” the billionaire said, slapping the black neck, cheerfully. “I don’t _need_ validation.” He looked at Peter, who was riding right beside him. “I _do_ look good, though, right?”

“Like a real cowboy,” Peter replied.

They finished the ride, handing over their horses to the wrangler – after Natasha took several more pictures of them posing in front of their mounts. Then they washed the smell of horse from their hands and arms, and went to find lunch.

>>><><>><<< 

It was pretty much a given that they were going to have barbeque. The protein was up to them, but Peter frowned at the menu, noticing that everything had a little red pepper next to it warning that it was hot.

“They can make it mild for you,” Steve said. “Spicy isn’t for _everyone_.”

“I tried a pepper one time and it about burned through my tongue,” Peter told them. “Never again.”

“The hotter the better,” Tony said, predictably.

“Absolutely,” Steve agreed.

Of course, now there was an unspoken challenge in the air, and the two men sized each other up.

“A _bet_?” Tony suggested. “To see who can handle the hottest pepper?”

“I’d hate to take your money, Tony,” Steve said, pushing back the brim of his cowboy hat and smirking.

“We don’t have to bet money,” Tony reminded him. “There are all kinds of ways to make things more interesting.”

Romanoff smiled.

“You guys realize you’ll both lose if you allow me to join your little pissing contest, right?”

“There aren’t any people to beat up, Natasha,” Steve pointed out. “This is about an iron stomach.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “An _iron_ stomach. _Ironman_? Iron stomach…? See how that works?”

Peter was quiet, even though he was tempted to remind Tony that his stomach wasn’t quite as iron-clad as he might hope it was. He’d seen how the man had handled Coney Island rides, after all. It was amusing, though, to see how easy it was for him to meet and rise to any challenge that Steve threw at him.

Romanoff smirked, leaning forward as she looked at the two men.

“Then let’s make it _interesting_ , shall we?”

“Absolutely,” Steve answered, immediately.

Tony hesitated only a moment; as if he sensed that something was going to happen and maybe his mouth was writing a check that his tongue wasn’t going to want to cash. But the caution blew away in the wind when she tossed him a challenging look, as if daring him to say he couldn’t do something.

“You’re _on_. What’s the bet?”

>>><<<><>>< 

“You know… I didn’t actually shake hands.”

Steve nodded his agreement.

“Neither did I.”

“Peter heard you both accept the bet,” Romanoff pointed out. “Do you really want to let him think the two of you would weasel out of a bet that you made, fair and square?”

“I’m okay with that,” Tony answered, quickly.

Steve, of course, scowled. Being a bad example to someone? _Unheard_ _of_. The man was _Captain America,_ after all. That wasn’t what the symbol of freedom and fair play did. He sighed.

“Fine.”

Natasha looked at Tony, raising an eyebrow.

“You can do this, here, where there’s no one around to recognize you…”

“Or…?”

“Or I come up with something much, much worse and you do it in Times Square. At _noon_.”

Peter chuckled, well aware that she had him.

Tony was, too.

“Fine.”

>>><<<>><> 

“This doesn’t go on the internet…”

Peter nodded.

“Yeah. No. I mean. No.”

The boy was just buckling on a gun belt, slinging it – and the holster attached to it – around his lean hips, and making sure it was at just the right angle to look cool. He had already thrown a homespun shirt over the t-shirt he was wearing, and then a leather vest over that. Now covering his blue jeans was a pair of fringed chaps, which matched the vest. His own brown cowboy hat was fine for the photo they were getting ready to take, and the two women who had helped him dress up had assured him that he looked like a real cowboy.

Natasha walked over, dressed in black leather, looking amazing. She had a homespun shirt, as well, and a black vest, but she didn’t have chaps and there was a tin star attached to the vest that she was wearing. The two gun belts that she had on were crisscrossed on her hips, and there was another gun tucked into the front of her pants.

“You look adorable.”

Tony scowled.

“I hope you mean _Peter_.”

“ _He_ does, too, but that dress is a perfect match for your eyes,” she told him. “It brings out all the brown so prettily.”

Peter smiled, and tried to force it down when Tony threw him a less than amused look.

The billionaire was dressed in a dance hall girl’s dress. Frilly and layered with silk and lace, it was black and red, and tightly corseted onto him with flowing skirts. His black cowboy hat, which made him look so spectacularly sinister, was replaced with a feathered boa and a much smaller, brimless, hat that had a bright red feather. Luckily, he was allowed to keep his regular shoes on, since he was certain he’d have broken an ankle had he tried the high-heels that normally went with the outfit.

“Are we _ready_?” Steve asked, with a faint air of complaint in his voice and expression. “This thing is so tight, I can barely breathe.”

“Try dancing and singing in it,” Natasha suggested, smirking.

Steve was dressed similarly to Tony – only his dress was red and white, and the feather in his little hair was blue. Both men were far too muscular for the role they were stuck in, but a bet was a bet, and Natasha was heartless when it came to making them pay up.

Peter was just glad that he hadn’t been dragged into it.

“Let’s get the picture taken and get on with it,” Tony said. “I get to be the _sheriff_ in the next picture.”

Peter was definitely interested in seeing how Natasha looked in the dancehall dress. It had to be better than the two men, after all.

The cameraman waved them over and Tony rolled his eyes.

“Stand in front of me, Peter,” the billionaire said. “Protect my honor…”

Natasha was having none of that, though.

“Tony and Steve front and center,” she ordered. “Otherwise not only will I find as many places to post the personal pictures that I’ve already taken, but you’re both _walking_ home…”

“You’re a cruel woman,” Steve said, shaking his head as he walked to the spot the camera directed him to. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

She smiled.

“A time or two, maybe.”


	128. 128

“You can post _that_ one…”

Peter smiled, looking at the picture in Tony’s hand while Natasha and Steve changed back into their street clothes. It was a good one; Peter still dressed as a cowboy, Natasha looking sexy as hell in a dress similar to the one she’d forced the men into, with her hand on Peter’s shoulder, leaning into him. Tony on the other side of Peter dressed in all black leathers, except for a white shirt under the black vest. His own hat was a perfect match for the outfit, and he was looking smug and sinister at the same time.

Beside Natasha, also looking much more comfortable dressed in an outfit similar to Peter’s, Steve had a casual arm around the assassin and was cheerfully smiling into the camera.

“I’ll send it to Monica, Sam and Bruce,” he said, not mentioning that no one followed his social media, so there wasn’t any reason for him to bother posting the photo anywhere.

He was in too good of a mood to brood about the lack of any real friends other than the Avengers – including his failed attempt at making a friend in Tate.

Tony knew what he was thinking, though, obviously, because his expression softened, and he brushed his fingertips across the boy’s cheek, counting on the fact that they were basically in a closet and there was no one about.

“Make sure you send a copy to _me_ , too.”

Peter smiled.

“I will.”

A few minutes later the four of them were back out on the boardwalk, and the men were all settling their cowboy hats on their heads, once more dressed only in jeans and t-shirts.

“It’s getting late,” Natasha pointed out. “What do you want to do as a finale to the day?”

Without actually discussing it, the adults had decided to allow Peter to decide what they did during the day. The trip was pretty much all about him, after all, when it came down to it.

“Can we go play games on the midway?” Peter asked. “I’ll win you a stuffed animal.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I’ll _try_.”

“Sounds like fun,” Steve said.

And a good way to wind down the day.

Natasha agreed, bringing her arm through Peter’s and whisking him away from Tony – well aware that the boy could spend time with him later. She was enjoying his company and wasn’t willing to give him up, just yet.

“Come on,” she told him. “I’ll show you what I want you to win for me.”

Steve smiled, watching the boy and the assassin pull ahead of them.

“She’s going to steal him away from you.”

Tony wasn’t worried, and it showed.

“She’s good for him. I can’t give him that mom vibe that he needs, and if she’s willing to fill that role – even for the day – I appreciate it. Especially after what happened with Tate.”

“I think we should overnight here,” Rogers told him. “As late as it’s going to be by the time they’re finished with the midway, she shouldn’t have to fly us home. We can find a hotel – a _nice_ one – and get some sleep and leave in the morning.”

“Sounds good to me. But not until you win me a stuffed animal. Otherwise, _you’re_ sleeping in the jet.”

Rogers smirked.

>>><><><><>><> 

“We might not have thought this through…” Tony said, much later, as the sky was beginning to get dark and the lights were coming on all around them.

His arms were loaded down with a veritable Noah's ark of large, bulky, stuffed animals.

Peter wasn’t the only one to nod his agreement, a slightly chagrined look on his face – although he also looked as if he’d had the time of his life.

“Yeah.”

It was a rough afternoon for the game operators on the midway.

Peter won Natasha the giant panda that she had her eye on on his very first try knocking over three heavily weighted metal bottles. Not only was his aim impressive, but his scrawny-looking arm had plenty of power needed to hurl the ball at his target and send them tumbling.

Not to be outdone, Steve stepped up and laid down a five-dollar bill and echoed Peter’s win, allowing the boy to chose whatever giant prize he wanted. With an excited grin, he picked a lion. Then, to prove they weren’t the only ones who could throw a ball, Natasha won Tony his choice from the same game, and they walked away with three stuffed animals – all of them almost bigger than Peter.

Then they went to the bb gun shooter game. Peter wasn’t very successful shooting out the red star to win a prize at this game, but Natasha and Steve were both able to win prizes – and, like the other game, they were incredibly large stuffed animals. Peter now had a lion under one arm and a bear under the other, while Tony was carrying the Pink Panther prize Natasha had won him, earlier, and now had a giraffe to show for Steve’s efforts. Tony wasn’t good at carnival games – but he didn’t _need_ to be, obviously.

By the time they were through with one side of the game row and working their way back up the other side, they were all laden with stuffed animals that none of them really had any use for – it was the winning that was fun for them. And a chance to show off, maybe, just a little, to the others.

Tony finally rolled his eyes when Peter pulled down another huge prize – this time an elephant. He stopped a little girl and her father and handed the pink panther to her, amused as the fact that she squealed, happily, and was then trying to carry a prize that was much larger than she was.

Seeing what he’d done, Steve handed a bear off to a different little girl – and then added a lion to the tiny hoard of a woman who was wrangling a couple of small boys who had no chance of winning such a large prize. Natasha doubled their prize when she proffered a huge stuffed snake, as well, and the group found that it was almost more fun to give away their prizes than it had been to _win_ them.

Peter gave all of his away – except for the bear that Natasha won for him – and mentioned that he might keep that one in his room at the compound, just so that he’d have something to remember the trip by.

That made the superspy smile and give the boy another of those impulsive hugs that were reserved only for him.

“Don’t forget,” Tony said, pleased at the way the boy blushed, even in the growing dark of the late evening. “We still need to find some souvenirs.”

>>><<<><>< 

“Hey, Robert. How’s Bob?”

_“He’s fine. I loaded him in the back of my FIT with a prybar and some Vaseline and we went to the park to find me a date.”_

“Did it work?”

_“No. But it very easily could have, I think. Bruce is right; he is certainly an attention grabber.”_

“Do you mind watching him overnight?”

_“Is everything alright?”_

“Yeah. It’s just getting late and I, personally, would rather not have the pilot nodding off somewhere over the plains and crashing us.”

The doctor chuckled.

_“How’s Peter?”_

“He had a good time, today. Did he send you any pictures?”

_“He doesn’t have my number.”_

“I’ll have FRIDAY send them to you. We’ll be home tomorrow morning.”

_“Don’t hurry on my account. Sunday in the park? Maybe I’ll go back for round two.”_

“You do that. Just remember; Peter’s going to want him back.”

_“I certainly can’t afford to feed him on a doctor’s salary.”_

They ended the call, and Tony looked at Steve and Natasha.

“Meet at the hotel?”

Steve nodded, looking through the window of the building they were standing by, watching as Peter browsed the Frontier Town gift shop, with a small handful of items already in hand.

“You got him?”

“Yeah. FRIDAY has already booked rooms for you guys – under _Bruce’s_ name to avoid any attention, if we can. Get settled and we’ll meet in the restaurant for dinner at eight o’clock or so.”

“We’ll see you, then.” Romanoff tapped on the window, getting Peter’s attention – as well as that of a couple of suddenly hopeful looking men, who were disappointed when it was the boy she waved at. She pantomimed going to the car and he nodded and waved, again. “Drive safe,” she told Tony as she and Steve left.

He nodded and went inside to see what Peter was finding to buy.

>>><><><<> 

“Is that your mom, kid?” a man standing close to Peter asked, curiously.

The boy looked up at him, and shook his head.

“Oh. Yeah. No. She’s…. my _aunt_.”

“I wish _my_ aunt looked like that.”

Peter nodded, recognizing the compliment to Natasha and agreeing completely.

“Yeah. She’s great.”

The man wandered off to look at a rack of postcards and Peter turned his attention back to the display of pocketknives, smiling at Tony when he joined him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Finding anything good?”

“Some stuff for the guys…” which Tony took to mean Bruce, Sam and maybe Rhodey. The boy had already bought cowboy hats for Nick and Robert – which Natasha and Steve had helped him pick out while Tony had been looking for a pair of boots. Just because. “Do you think _Monica_ would like a plate? I saw some in her apartment. Maybe she collects them?”

“Very observant. Get her a plate and one of those tiny spoons – and a _shot glass_ , just in case the other two are a bust.”

“Okay.”

“We can check the hotel gift shop, too,” Tony told him. “They might have different things.”

“I’ve never shopped for souvenirs, before,” Peter said, with a smile. “It’s _fun_ , isn’t it?”

Tony’s eyes softened, and he smiled, too, tugging on the brim of the cowboy hat the boy was wearing.

“I think it’s fun because of who you’re buying gifts for. Ready?”

 “Yeah.”

A minute later, they were back out on the boardwalk, Peter carrying a couple of bags and Tony holding the boy’s giant bear.

 “Did you have fun?”

“Yes.” Peter’s smile when he looked at Tony proved that. “Did you?”

“I had a great time,” he said, honestly. “Because you were with me.”

 “Thank you, again.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”

The boy hesitated, uncertain.

“Do I have to have my own room, tonight?”

“No. Not if you don’t want to.”

“I _don’t_.”

Tony’s smile was cheerful, but he made a show of looking through the bags.

“You didn’t buy _spurs_ , though, right?”

Peter laughed, and they headed for the rental car.


	129. 129

Not surprisingly, considering Tony was involved, the hotel was a nice one. Five star and swanky. A valet came up to the car, immediately, when Tony drove up to the entrance, and the billionaire tossed her the keys with a smile. She caught them, easily, and waited to see if a doorman was going to take any luggage, but Tony waved her away.

Still wearing his cowboy hat – although Tony left his in the car – Peter caught up with Tony just as the car was driven away, and the older man’s hand went to the small of his back to guide him into the lobby through a set of giant glass double doors.

“We’ll check in and then have the concierge find us a change of clothes and something to lounge around in,” he told Peter as they walked across the lobby and to the guest check in, which was empty of customers at that time of day.

A sharply dressed man with a mustache and a name tag that read _Gerald_ smiled, politely, at the two of them.

“Checking in, sir?”

Tony nodded.

“There should be a suite with a couple of rooms.”

Had to keep up appearances, after all.

“The name?”

“It’s under Bruce Banner.”

“Yes, sir, I found it.” The man handed over two card readers for the doors. “The Lonestar suite. I’ll have John help you with your bags.”

“We don’t have any,” Tony told him. “Stranded overnight. Make sure the room has a mini bar, though, will you?” He glanced over at Peter, and then back to Gerald. “And a basket filled with treats and fruit – no _strawberries_ , though. We’re allergic.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Which direction is your restaurant?”

The man pointed the way, and Tony nodded his thanks before leading Peter to the concierge’s desk, next. The person standing there smiled, and Peter could tell that Tony had been recognized.

“Mr. Stark… How are you doing, this evening, sir?”

“It’s _Bruce_ ,” Tony told him, smiling, slightly. It wasn’t uncommon for a celebrity to go under another name, and Tony was making sure the concierge understood that that was what he was doing. “We’re stranded in your fine city overnight. Which means no change of clothes for either of us – and while teenagers don’t mind so much, I would much rather have something clean to put on in the morning.”

The man smiled.

“We can take care of that for you, sir. Leave me your sizes.”

Tony knew Peter’s, already, and he wrote his and the boy’s both.

“We’re meeting some friends for dinner. Go ahead and just take them up to our rooms. We’ll need everything – and I’ll need better shaving tools than what are going to be in the room, please.”

The man nodded.

“I’ll see to it, myself, Bruce,” he assured him.

“Thanks.” Tony slid a hundred-dollar bill over the desk. “Just charge it all to the room.”

They turned and headed to the restaurant, and the concierge pocketed the bill and headed for the elevator.

“You like being rich, don’t you, Tony?” Peter asked as they stopped at the entrance to the restaurant, looking for Natasha and Steve.

“I’m pretty _good_ at it,” Tony told him, waving away the matre d when he spied Natasha red curls at a table next to a window and guided Peter over so they could join them. “You guys get checked in?” he asked, sitting down beside Steve so Peter could have the spot next to Natasha.

“We did,” Steve told him. “You?”

“Yeah. More or less. Let’s eat, I’m starved.”

“Something with _hot peppers_ in it?” Romanoff asked him, impudently.

He scowled.

“No.”

He could be taught. Sometimes it took longer than other times, but it _did_ happen, occasionally.

>>>>><>><><> 

By the time they were finished eating and had said goodnight to the others, it was getting pretty late. Tony and Peter walked into their room, locking the deadbolt behind them. Peter looked around with interest, while Tony immediately found the wet bar.

The room was huge, and furnished with a desk, a small table with a couple of chairs, a sofa, a large flat screen TV and a magnificent view of the city. There were three doors leading off from the main room; a bathroom and two bedrooms. Tony saw a neat stack of clothing (jeans and t-shirts, socks, boxers and briefs, since the man hadn’t known for certain which was preferred, and concierges never _guessed_ ). There was also a small shaving kit, Tony saw with approval.

“This is _nice_ ,” Peter said, moving the curtain a little so he could look out the window while Tony made a drink and walked over to the couch.

“Yeah, it is.”

There was a basket on the coffee table in front of the sofa. It held many different kinds of candy bars, bags of chips, fruit snacks, real fruits, and granola bars and rice crispy treats. The billionaire ignored it all and sat down with a tired sigh, kicking off his shoes and putting his feet up on the coffee table.

Peter closed the curtain and went over to join him, taking his shoes off, as well as his hat, and climbing into his lap, straddling him as he was fond of doing, and knowing, now, that Tony wouldn’t mind holding him, even if he was tired.

“Hi, daddy,” he murmured, brushing his lips against Tony’s neck and jawline.

“Hey, honey.” Tony said, shifting just a little under the boy, and taking a sip of his drink before holding Peter steady so he could reach over and set the glass on the coffee table. “How do you feel?”

“A little tired.”

“Yeah? It’s been a busy day for you.”

“But a _good_ one.”

Tony brushed a kiss against the boy’s temple.

“You had fun?”

“Yeah.”

“I had fun watching you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. You’re my favorite thing in the world to watch,” he told him, rubbing his back, lightly. “You’re beautiful, and sexy, and don’t even get me _started_ on how smart you are.”

Peter shivered, sliding his arms around Tony, his hands going under the back of the older man’s shirt.

“Tell me more, daddy… please? It feels so good.”

Tony smiled, pleased with the boy for being willing to tell him what he wanted. He slid his hand under the back of Peter’s jeans, cupping his ass through his silk boxers.

“You mean you want me to tell you how amazing you are, baby? How much I love to watch you because you’re strong, and graceful? How beautiful you are and it makes me want to touch you, everywhere, you to reassure myself that you’re real and not a day dream…”

Peter moaned, softly, and Tony pushed Peter away just enough to allow him to pull the boy’s shirt off, setting it to the side and leaning down to suckle first one nipple and then the other, blowing on them and enjoying the way they tightened up at his touch.

“Yes, daddy,” Peter whispered, his own hand coming down between them, brushing Tony’s already growing erection through the man’s jeans.

“You need your daddy, Peter?” Tony asked, kissing Peter, hungrily, his tongue tasting the boy’s for a long moment, before pulling away and taking hos own shirt off, as well. “You want daddy to fuck his baby boy?”

“Yes, daddy,” he whimpered, licking Tony's nipple, now, fingers reaching for the button on Tony’s jeans. “Fill your baby up. Please?”

“Shhh…” Tony crooned. “I’m _going_ to, honey. I’m going to show you just how much daddy needs his baby. Stand up.”

Tony watched as Peter slid off his lap, and reached for the boy, positioning him between his knees and unbuttoning his jeans. The boy’s cock was already throbbing and eager when the older man pulled his pants and boxers down and helped steady him as Peter stepped out of them. Then he leaned forward and lapped the tip of his tongue against the slit at the head of Peter’s cock, slurping precum, loudly.

“Daddy…”

“You like that?”

“Yes. _Please_ …”

Tony smiled, and continued to play with the boy’s cock. He took his time, though, enjoying the way Peter writhed, trying not to slide himself into Tony’s mouth, giving the billionaire the choice of what to do to him, but unable to stop from trembling or moaning when Tony found a particularly sensitive spot – and he knew _all_ of Peter’s sensitive spots, by now.

Finally, he drew the boy into his mouth, taking his fully aroused cock down his throat with a humming noise that made Peter cry out in pleasure. His hands went to Tony’s hair and his hips began moving in time with each motion of Tony’s head.

Not surprising either of them, he built to his climax rather quickly once Tony started making an effort to get him off, and the billionaire was soon being fed a load of cum as fast as Peter’s balls could unload into him.

“Daddy!”

Tony held his hips, making sure Peter understood that he didn’t want him to move, just yet, and he continued what he was doing until he had cleaned Peter’s cock of any lingering cum and was reduced to simply suckling, tenderly, on the very tip of the head of Peter’s cock. Finally he pulled away and looked up at the boy, pleased at how blown his eyes were in response to what he'd done.

“You’re so pretty, honey,” Tony crooned, wrapping his arms around Peter and hugging him, pressing his face next to the boy’s somewhat damp cock and balls, Peter’s light dusting of coarse pubic hair tickling his nose. “So wonderful.”

“Daddy…” Peter petted his hair, lightly, understanding that Tony needed to be held, and willing to do that for him. “You’re wonderful, too. I always want to be the little guy with you.”

Tony looked up at him, again, smiling, slightly, at the reference to the porn, and relieved that Peter didn’t seem to be reliving how he’d panicked with Tate – only the good part. At least, what _he’d_ thought was the good part.

“I want to be inside you, Peter,” the billionaire whispered, turning his head and sliding his tongue along the boy’s somewhat flaccid penis. “Can I? Will you let daddy fuck you?”

“Yes.”

Tony let him go long enough to stand up, the front of his jeans bulging with his desire for Peter.

“Come on, honey. Let’s go to bed.”

He wanted to have Peter sprawled under him when he took him.

“Yes.”

 


	130. 130

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully this gets the chapter numbers back on track. It's a pain in the ass, but not as much as trying to actually come up with titles for 130+ chapters.

The bed was large and neatly made up, with a mint on the pillow and a little note from the cleaning staff thanking them for choosing their hotel. Tony moved all of that out of the way and set it on the stand beside the bed, his interest utterly on the boy standing beside him.

He gathered Peter into his arms, sliding a loving hand along his bare hip, feeling him tremble with the touch. At least, Tony hoped it was his touch and not that he was cold, or that he was thinking about what had almost happened in the bathroom in Coney Island.

“Are you alright, honey?” he whispered, peppering Peter’s face with tender butterfly kisses.

“Yes, daddy. It’s a little cold.”

“I’ll warm you up,” Tony promised, stepping back enough to begin undressing. “Do you want anything in particular, baby? Do you want me to do anything specific? Should I put you on your belly? Or your back?”

Peter sat down on the edge of the bed and watched as Tony’s jeans and boxers landed on the floor, the older man’s cock aroused and eager. He reached for it, sliding his fingers along the shaft and smiling up at his daddy, amazed at how he could have such an effect on the man. He wasn’t that exciting a person, he knew, and yet the proof was right there in his hand, growing even larger with every stroke.

“Whatever _you_ want, daddy. I know it’ll be good.”

Tony nodded, watching as Peter stroked him, feeling the delicate touch of the boy’s long fingers make him twitch and grow.

“Let’s go take a shower, then, honey,” he said, pulling himself carefully out of Peter’s grip and bringing him to his feet. “I want to make sure you’re warm enough. And besides, we still sort of smell like _horses_.”

Peter smiled at that and allowed Tony to lead him into the bathroom. The billionaire turned on the shower, and while they waited for the water to heat up, he made sure there were plenty of towels close at hand to dry off with, rather than trying to hunt them up, later. The shower was a walk in type, similar to what he had at home, but there was only the one safety bar installed and it was for _safety_ and not to make it easier to have hot, wet sex.

Tony pulled Peter under the spray as soon as he decided the water was ready, and ran his hands along the boy, caressing him while he allowed the water to warm him even faster than he could. Peter moaned with the touch, and pressed his hand along Tony’s chest, next to the arc reactor.

“Do you want me to suck you?”

“Not right now,” Tony murmured, taking the gentle spray in his face as he bent his head to kiss Peter’s jaw, and then his neck and his shoulder, his hands sliding down along his wet sides and cupping his ass, pulling him up tight against him until Tony’s hard, throbbing cock was pressed tightly between them. “We’re going to take our time, but I want to enjoy you.”

And, of course, he wanted to make _Peter_ enjoyed everything that they did.

“Okay.”

Tony eventually reached for the shower gel and a sponge and started washing Peter’s body. He had him close his eyes and washed his face, and neck, rinsed that clear and then watched the boy’s reaction as he began washing the rest of him.

“You’re so pretty,” Tony told him, honestly. “Your eyes are beautiful. Like the rest of you.”

Peter blushed, prettily, and tilted his head just a little, looking up at him through wet eyelashes that any woman would kill for.

“Thank you, daddy.”

He smiled, and washed his back, sliding the sponge down to the boy’s rear and taking his time washing him, thoroughly, and sliding his fingers into the boy, already beginning to stretch him and prepare him for what was to come. Probably taking much more time than he really needed to – they didn’t smell that _much_ like horse, after all – but Peter was making the most delicious of noises and Tony would have played with the boy’s ass for hours just to keep hearing them.

Eventually, he moved down to Peter’s thighs and legs, kneeling in the shower to make sure his feet had some attention, as well, and then, finally, washing the somewhat aroused penis that was in perfect position for just a little teasing with lips and tongue.

Tony had no will power when it came to Peter, so it didn’t surprise him that he gave in to his desire to bring the boy to another orgasm. The teasing that was just going to be in passing as he made his way back up Peter’s body became a full on blow job, and he swallowed the boy’s throbbing cock, humming with delight and feeling Peter’s fingers take a handful of his hair for support.

“Daddy… oh, yes… I love that…”

He groaned; his hand sliding against his own hard cock as he reached for Peter’s balls, rolling them in his fingers and tugging on them as he suckled, licked and even nibbled the head and shaft of that quivering rod of flesh. Peter’s hand tightened in his hair – not painfully; just enough to warn him – and the boy cried out with a gasp that sounded so much louder in the shower. His cock exploded into Tony’s mouth, feeding the billionaire another load of boy cum, which he gobbled down, hungrily, looking for more and milking Peter’s balls, gently, trying to get it.

A final lick, and he stood up, once more, kissing Peter, tenderly as he finished washing the two of them and then turned off the water.

“I’m so hard for you, honey… I need my baby.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Tony dried him, carefully, playing with his hair and continually kissing his; his eyes, his nose, his lips and cheeks. Every part he could reach while his hands deftly made sure that Peter wasn’t going to be too chilled when they left the bathroom. Then he dried himself and led the boy back out into the bedroom and gently pushed him, naked, down onto the bed, belly down and ass up.

“You’re so beautiful,” Tony groaned, getting between Peter’s legs and leaning down to press a kiss against his ass cheeks; first the left, and then the right. “MY beautiful baby…”

Peter trembled when Tony’s mouth found his hole, the billionaire’s tongue snaking out to lick his crack and then force its way inside him, joined a moment later by a finger, and then two. Tony was wetting Peter with copious amounts of saliva, drooling on the boy’s ass, enjoying the flavor of Peter and the way he was beginning to writhe under him.

The boy whimpered and pressed back against the assault, looking over his shoulder and trying to see what Tony was doing, but not able to get a view of more than the older man’s body up against his own.

“ _Please_ , daddy…” Peter begged, knowing what Tony liked, and more than willing to stoke that flame. “Please, _daddy_. Your baby needs it. _I_ need it. I need you.”

Tony groaned at the soft whine and pulled away.

“I’m here, baby,” he crooned, coming more upright and putting his hands on Peter’s hips, reaching out to gentle him with a calming hand on the boy’s back. Caressing him as he lined the drooling head of his cock up with that perfect hole. “Daddy’s going to fill his baby, just the way you like it.”

He pressed forward, then, his cock forcing its way inside Peter with the most amazing balance of welcome and resistance.

Peter moaned; his hands grabbing hold of the bedding and his face buried in a pillow as he rocked back to help Tony’s progress, slow and steady as it was.

“Yes…”

Once Tony was hilted balls deep inside Peter, he gave the boy a chance to acclimate to the thick rod of flesh invading him, and then pulled out, slightly, and jerked his hips, pushing the inch or two right back in – eliciting a grunt of pleasure from both of them.

He held himself still, moving Peter back and forth on his cock with the hold that he had on his hips, watching as he entered that beautiful ass, repeatedly, listening to the wet slap each time his balls hit flesh with everything thrust.

“You’re so amazing,” Tony grunted, feeling his climax building, his hands holding Peter, tightly. “So pretty. So tight for your daddy…”

Peter trembled, reacting to the praise and reaching for his cock to stroke himself in time to each thrust of Tony’s powerful body.

“Please, daddy. More…”

“So wonderful,” Tony responded, slamming himself deep. “So beautiful. So perfect for me, baby, Everything I want.”

Each sentence punctuated by another thrust until Tony slammed home and came, deep inside Peter, shuddering as his balls emptied in the most amazing of ways – and into his perfect baby’s ass.

Peter moaned, still stroking himself, even as Tony’s trembling eased a bit. The billionaire groaned, realizing that he wasn’t there, yet, and slid himself out of Peter, and then flipped the boy over and moved his hand out of the way, taking him into his mouth once more.

It was only minutes before Peter arched his back and climaxed, once again.

“Daddy!”

Tony chuckled, licking that ultra-sensitive shaft clear, and then pulling the bedding down to gather Peter into his arms under the blankets, determined to keep him warm now that he had him heated up.

“You’re so amazing, Peter,” he cooed. “I love my baby boy so much.”

Peter smiled, catching his breath and resting his cheek against Tony’s chest, holding him.

“I love you, too, daddy. That was so good.”

“Yes. Because you’re _incredible_ ,” Tony told him, caressing him, now, to remind him that he loved touching him all the time, not just when he was ramming himself into him. “My beautiful baby…”

The boy made a happy, contented sound and closed his eyes, relaxing against him, now.

“Mmm…”

Tony chuckled, burying his face in the still damp curls that he loved so much.

“You’re my perfect baby, aren’t you?”

“Yes, daddy. All yours, and only yours.”

“God… so wonderful. And fuckable. And smooth…”

He fell asleep still praising the boy, but Peter had already fallen asleep, so he didn’t notice.


	131. 131

Peter and Tony were in the restaurant by the time Steve and Natasha joined them. Sitting at the table across from each other, Tony was finishing his second cup of coffee and reading the news on his tablet, while Peter was looking through an all new collection of souvenirs with a cup of hot chocolate at hand, a waiter coming by every time the whipped cream was slurped from the top with the can, in order to refresh it. Which was probably a _lot_ more sugar than Peter needed before a long flight, but Tony wasn't too concerned, and it was amusing to watch the game unfold between the waiter and the boy.

“Tell me you haven’t already been to the _gift shop_ ,” Natasha said with a smile, running her hand along his shoulder as she moved around the table to sit beside Tony.

Steve smiled a good morning and took the spot beside Peter.

“They were opening when we walked by,” the boy said. “So I went in to see what they had.”

“Anything _good_?”

Peter showed them both his new purchases – mainly things for various Avengers, but a couple more gifts for _Monica_ , and Happy, as well – while they ordered breakfast.

“How did you sleep?” Tony asked Natasha, looking up from his tablet. He didn’t need to see the new purchases, after all; he’d been with Peter when he’d bought them “Not that it’s any of my business, except for the fact that you’re flying me home.”

She smirked.

“Buy me breakfast and I think I’ll be good to go. You guys?”

“Yeah. I slept well.”

Peter nodded his agreement.

“Ready to get home?” Steve asked. “Bob probably misses you.”

“Yes.” The boy smiled. “I had a lot of fun, though. Thanks, guys. _Really_.”

“ _We_ had a good time,” Steve assured him. “Maybe _next_ time, Tony can need to pick up something somewhere more exotic. Like _Greece_.”

“You learned how to ride a _horse_ , Steve,” the billionaire reminded him. “How much more exotic do you need?”

Rogers was saved from needing to reply by the arrival of their breakfast.

>>>><><><>< 

“He looks comfortable, all things considered.”

Tony shook his head, looking down at the boy sprawled along the jump seats, his head resting on the billionaire’s leg, sound asleep. Then he looked up at Natasha, affecting horror.

“Aren't you supposed to be flying the plane?”

She smirked.

“ _Steve’s_ flying.”

“His track record isn’t that great with landings, you know?”

“Which is why _I_ will be taking care of that part of things.” She looked down at Peter, who hadn’t made a sound. “He didn’t make it, huh?”

“I didn’t think that he _would_ ,” he told Natasha. “Not as tired as he was this morning when I rousted him out of bed. It doesn’t matter, though. We’ll land, gather up our dog and go home. A quiet night, just doing nothing, will be just the thing, I think, to get him ready to stark next the new week.”

“Without going into details, thank you very much, was he alright, last night?”

Meaning she wanted to know if Peter had had any Tate related issues, Tony understood.

“A bad dream sometime in the middle of the night,” he replied. “But he had those before the Coney Island thing, so I don’t know. I was worried, though, and was paying careful attention to how he was acting anytime I touched him. He seemed okay, so far.”

“You’ll take care of him, if he isn’t, right? Get him a professional, or whatever is needed?”

“Yeah. I’d planned on it, anyway, for the nightmares. To continue on where his aunt and uncle hadn’t succeeded. We’ll add that all into things, as well, and have it addressed – just in case. Two birds, one stone.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Tony nodded, and for a change, the look he gave her wasn’t self-serving, or sardonic, or even a little narcissistic.

“You’re doing it,” he told her, sincerely. “And I _appreciate_ it.”

That made her smile.

“He’ll probably be one of us, eventually,” she pointed out. “Either on the superhero front, or the scientific field. We need to take care of him.”

“I agree.”

“Besides; he’s _adorable_ , isn’t he?”

“I agree with _that_ , too.” He made a shooing motion with his hands, ready to not be involved in the sharing of hearts, any longer. “Please go fly the plane. Steve behind the controls makes my brain scream _get the parachutes on_ and I’m playing pillow, right now, and can’t do it.”

Romanoff smiled, not at all fooled, but willing to let him think she was.

“We’ll be in the ground in about an hour.”

“Probably _less_ if you don’t get up there,” he said, reaching over and putting his cowboy hat on, and tilting it down over his eyes, effectively ending the conversation.

The assassin thumped the brim, affectionately, and headed back to the cockpit.

>><><><><><> 

“Was he good?”

“He _was_.”

“Did you find a date?”

“Unfortunately, no. But I was the center of attention for almost an hour, and that’s nothing to sneeze at.”

Tony smiled, watching as Peter handed Nick a black leather cowboy hat, similar to the one he, himself, had on. The SHIELD director didn’t even scowl, as near as the billionaire could tell. He flashed a smile and put the hat on, striking a rakish pose that made Peter nod, approvingly.

“That’s as good as you can hope for sometimes,” Tony agreed.

“Any nightmares?” Robert asked, softly.

“Yeah. But nothing I can swear was from Friday’s fiasco.”

“Keep an eye on him.”

“I will. He’s scheduled to work with Bruce Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday this week, so we’ll keep him busy. But I might stay home from the tower, tomorrow, just in case.”

“Don’t let him know you’re worried about it,” the doctor advised. Psychology wasn’t his strong point, but he’d done a rotation, like every other doctor had. “That’ll worry him, and maybe start a problem that isn’t there, right now.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Plans for the rest of the day?”

“We’re going home, and we’ll have an early dinner and hang out and watch TV, or something.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“Tony?” They both smiled at Fury when he walked over, still wearing his hat and a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Did you see the fine looking hat I was just presented?”

“Yeah, Nick. It looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Before I answer that, did _you_ help Peter here pick it out?”

“No. Natasha and Steve did.”

“It’s amazing.”

Peter laughed, outright, and Tony shook his head at the boy.

“Did everyone get their souvenirs?”

“Everyone who’s here. I’ll give Bruce his on Tuesday.”

“Ready to go home, then? Where’s your bear?”

“In my room, here.”

“Which we are officially calling _your_ room, now,” Nick told the boy, which made Peter flush, happily.

“Thanks, Nick.”

“Thanks for the hat, Peter.”

“Get Bob in the car,” Tony told him, tapping the brim of the hat Peter was wearing. “I’m ready to get home and sit on something that isn’t transporting me, somewhere, for a change.”

Peter nodded, taking the dog’s leash from Tony and heading for the car, chatting with Happy, who looked relieved that they hadn’t brought him a hat, but was more than glad to see the old-fashioned gun belt that they’d brought him – sans the revolver, of course.

The billionaire offered both men his hand.

“We’ll probably be by next weekend.”

“You’d better be. We’re playing pinochle.”

Stark nodded, and headed for the limo, joining Peter and Bob in the back.

Peter waited, politely, while Tony settled in his seat, but when the car started moving, he climbed into Tony’s lap, straddling his hips and bumping the brim of his hat against Tony’s, and smiling as he took his off and put it on the seat next to them. Now he could rest his cheek on Tony’s shoulder, and he did.

“How do you feel?” Tony asked him, sliding a hand under the hem of his sweatshirt and caressing his lower back with loving fingers.

“I’m fine, daddy;” Peter replied. “Just a little sleepy.”

“Might be jet-lagged,” Tony told him, turning his head and brushing a kiss against the tip of his nose.

“Really? I’ve never been, before.”

“Because you’ve never been so far away from home, before, honey,” Tony reminded him. “We’re going to have a quiet night in, tonight. We’ll get home, deliver our souvenirs to Monica and then make dinner and just watch movies, or something. Yeah?”

“That sounds good, daddy.”

“Take a nap, little boy,” Tony suggested, sliding his hands down the back of Peter’s jeans for just a moment, cupping him and holding him close before he pulled the sweatshirt back down to make sure his baby was warm enough. “Daddy’s got you.”

Peter nodded and did as he was told, loosely draping his arms around Tony’s hips and allowing himself to be lulled back to sleep.

The billionaire waited until he was comfortably sleeping, and then reached for his phone. He wanted to make sure Tate was gone before they went to Monica’s and wanted to make sure she wasn’t busy, before they barged in on her Sunday afternoon. Even if it wasn't going to be an extended visit.


	132. 132

“Do you think she’s home?”

Tony smiled, once more tapping the brim of the cowboy hat Peter was wearing. He realized that it matched the boy’s eyes – which might be why he liked it, so much.

“One way to find out, right?”

They knocked on the door, and immediately heard the deep barks replying, warning them that they’d better be friends, or they should hope that the door doesn’t open. After a very short knock, the door did open, and Monica smiled to see the two guys standing in the hall; both wearing cowboy hats and somehow managing to look handsome and adorable at the same time.

“Peter!”

She hugged the boy with a chuckle, holding him close for a long moment, as if to reassure herself that he was alright, _and_ to remind _him_ that she wasn’t her grandson. Even with a bag in his hand and Bob’s leash, Peter hugged her back, happily, reminding her that he knew she wasn’t Tate, and that he loved her, no matter what.

They broke apart and her bright eyes looked him over.

“Welcome home. I _love_ your hat.”

“Good thing,” Tony told her, bringing the hand that he had hidden behind his back out and dropping a similar one on top of her head. “We couldn’t come home without bringing _you_ one, too.”

She chuckled and hugged him, as well, and he returned it with far more enthusiasm than anyone who knew him (aside from Peter) would have believed possible.

“I love it,” she assured him, settling it more securely on her halo of gray curls. “Come in, guys.”

She moved aside, gesturing for Boomer to move, too, and the three visitors walked into her apartment. Peter dropped Bob’s leash and handed her the bag he was holding.

“We got you a few other things…”

“Can I get you two something to drink?” she asked, taking the bag.

“No, thanks, Monica,” Tony said. “We’re just here long enough to check in with you so you know not to have any loud parties, tonight, and to make sure you get your souvenirs.”

They _did_ go sit on her sofa while she checked out her presents, though. She immediately had Tony hang the plate Peter had picked out up on the wall beside a few others that she had, the billionaire rolling his eyes to find himself set to such a menial task, but doing it, good-naturedly, anyway. Hang a plate on the wall? Why not ask Davinci to paint your garage?

She loved the other gifts the two brought her – and Peter handed over a Texas-shaped dog chew to Boomer, who took it and went to his bed to gnaw on it, stumpy tail wagging, contentedly. Peter told her about the wild west photos – even though he’d already sent her the one with Tony as a sheriff, so she knew about them – and had told her about winning all the games on the midway and then giving the prizes to little kids.

“We would have brought you one, but I thought you’d like the other stuff more,” he told her.

“You’re exactly right,” she agreed, nodding. “Now, you two look tired, so I’m not going to keep you. Tony? There’s a casserole in a quilted carrier in the oven, staying warm. That’ll save you the trouble of making dinner, tonight. Take Peter home and have a relaxing evening. I want to hear all about the rest of your trip, later.”

The billionaire put her hammer away, smiling at her thoughtfulness – and _appreciating_ it. Now he wouldn’t have to make dinner, after all.

“Thanks, Monica. Are you working the flower shop, tomorrow?” he asked as he went to her oven and pulled out the dish.

It was covered in a carrying container, that was then covered with a bright blue quilted insulator that made it able to be carried without potholders.

“No, I have a few other things to take care of,” she told him, glancing at Peter, who was saying goodbye to Boomer. “Will you be home? Or at the office?”

“Staying home, tomorrow. Peter has school in the morning, but if you’re not doing anything, later, why don’t we go to lunch?”

“A good plan.”

They said their goodbyes and with Peter holding Bob’s leash, and Tony carrying the casserole, they headed to the apartment.

“It’s good to be home,” Tony said, sincerely, walking into the living room a few minutes later.

Peter nodded his agreement, crouching down to take off Bob’s harness and leash and hang it up. The dog whuffled his face a moment, and then went to find his bed, more than ready to settle in. Peter hung his hat on the same set of hooks that held Bob’s leash, and looked around. It felt like they’d been gone for years, and not just days.

“Hi, FRIDAY.”

_“Welcome home, Peter.”_

“Thanks.”

He walked to the kitchen island and leaned against it, watching as Tony took the cover off the dish Monica had sent with them. The older man smiled at him and handed him his cowboy hat, too.

“Go hang that up for me, will you honey?”

“Sure.”

“Do you want rolls with dinner?” he asked, turning on the oven.

“Yes, please.”

By the time Peter returned, Tony had already pulled a small package of frozen bread rolls from the freezer and had put them into the oven to allow them to thaw while the oven heated up, and then bake. He slid his arms around Peter, pulling the boy close and hugging him.

“We’ll eat in about twenty minutes.”

“Okay, daddy.”

“I’m going to go change,” he murmured, tilting the boy’s head up so he could kiss him, tenderly. “Will you set the table?” he asked into the same kiss, unwilling to part, just yet.

Peter ran his tongue along Tony’s lower lip, feeling the hairs that were just below it, as well.

“Yes. Do you want coffee?”

“Please.”

He forced himself to let the boy go – with one more kiss, because he _had_ to – and then went into his room. Peter started the coffee pot, and then pulled plates and silverware from the cupboard and then headed for the table.

_“Incoming call from Tate Hansen,”_ FRIDAY announced.

Peter froze, the plates falling from suddenly nerveless fingers and shattering on the hardwood floor. Luckily, Tony had heard the message as well and came out of his bedroom wearing only a pair of lounge pants.

“FRIDAY, decline call and block to the number.”

“ _Gotcha_.”

Peter looked down at the broken plates at his feet, and was grateful that FRIDAY routed his calls when he was at the apartment. He was more relieved, too, that _Tony_ had answered the announcement, because he felt suddenly tongue-tied.

Tony stopped at the edge of the broken glass, his bare feet all that was keeping him from rushing to hold Peter, who was suddenly disturbingly pale.

“Are you alright?”

The boy nodded; his eyes wide, still frozen to his spot.

“I… ye-no. Yes.”

“Stay right there for a minute,” Tony told him, going for the broom.

Peter bent down and started picking up the bigger pieces of the broken plates, but he waited until Tony had swept the smaller pieces up before he moved to throw them into the garbage.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was startled…”

Tony shook his head, sliding his arms around the boy and tucking his head under his chin.

“That little bastard had no business calling you. Did he do it at all while we were gone?”

“No. What do you think he wants…?”

“I don’t _care_ , and _you_ don’t need to worry about it,” Tony replied, silently steaming. That little _sonofabitch_! He was just getting Peter calmed, and the motherfucker has the audacity to try and _call_? “It’s _okay_ , honey,” he soothed, his voice and tone not giving away how mad he was, and his touch gentle as he caressed Peter’s back, holding him close while the boy trembled in his embrace. “My amazing boy. So wonderful…”

Peter appreciated the words, just then, needing the bolstering. He clung to Tony for a long few minutes before he finally pulled away.

“I’m okay,” he assured him. “I just didn’t expect… I mean…”

Tony cut him off with a kiss.

“You’re okay,” he repeated. “You’re with me, and I love you, and we’re going to eat dinner and then spend the night cuddling together watching movies, alright?”

Peter nodded and Tony pushed him down into his chair, then went and retrieved new dishes and set the table, poured himself a cup of coffee and the boy a glass of milk. Which made Peter smile, slightly. All that was missing were cookies – and he knew they didn’t have any.

>>>><<<><>> 

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

Peter shook his head, bringing his cheek down to Tony’s bare shoulder, shivering, slightly, even though he was covered with a comforter.

“No, daddy.”

“You _are_ ,” Tony told him, sliding his hands along the boy’s back, pleased that the ribs that had once been so prominent were now somewhat less defined. He ran his fingers along Peter’s hip and then up his chest between their bodies, checking there, as well, and brushed a kiss against his nose. “You’re so pretty, baby boy. My beautiful baby.”

“Thank you, daddy,” Peter said, softly, well aware that Tony was saying all those things to make him feel better – and it was working. It _always_ worked. He knew he wasn’t any of it, but the love and sincerity in the older man’s voice made him almost believe it. Enough that it made him shiver, deliciously, anyway. Of course, that could have been the way he was being caressed, as well. He shifted, just a little, in Tony’s lap, giving the man all the room he wanted to touch him. “That feels good.”

“Good. Daddy wants his baby to feel good, all the time.” Peter made an approving noise, and slid his hand down to their laps, his fingers searching for Tony’s cock through the lounge pants that he was wearing, and the billionaire made a noise similar to the one Peter had. “We’re just _touching_ , tonight, honey,” he reminded him. “I want you to relax a bit.”

Peter pressed his face against Tony’s neck, a sure sign to the man by now that the boy wanted something and was working up the courage to ask for it. He waited, feeling as Peter stroked him, lightly, and caressing the boy’s back, tenderly. Finally, Peter spoke.

“Can I suck you, daddy? I won’t do it hard, or anything. I just want to have you in my mouth.”

“You don’t _need_ to, baby. I feel good, just having you touch me like that…”

“I…” the boy trembled, a little. “I _like_ it.”

Tony hugged him. Like he could say no to him?

“Do whatever you want to, baby. As long as it makes you feel good.”

He watched as Peter shifted out of his lap, but didn’t get on the floor between his legs. Instead, he simply pulled down the front of Tony’s pants, freeing his mostly limp cock and sprawled beside him, settling his head in his lap and taking the head of his cock between his lips, suckling it, lightly, and running the tip of his tongue along the head, every now and then, his hand holding it, but not stroking him.

Tony was reminded of a child with a pacifier, more than anything, and the image made his cock twitch just a little, in Peter’s mouth.

“You’re okay, baby boy?” he asked, brushing his hand along the boy’s cheek.

Peter looked up at him without releasing Tony’s cock, his brown eyes perfectly content, and nodded.

The billionaire smiled and shook his head, adjusting the blanket to make sure his baby was covered up and warm, and then turned the movie on.

He could live with that.

 


	133. 133

By the time the movie was over Peter’s constant suckling had Tony nicely aroused. True, the boy wasn’t doing more than playing with the head of his cock – for the most part – and like he’d said, he wasn’t trying to do more than just have it in his mouth, but Tony’s cock hadn’t gotten the message that it was just a comfort thing, and it was at full mast, eagerly seeking as much attention as possible.

Peter’s hand was still around the shaft, and his lips were around the head. Sometimes he’d draw the whole head into his mouth and suckle it, licking any drool off the shaft of there was any, and other times all he’d do is plant his lips on the tip and suckle just that part. It felt good for Tony, and it had brought the boy to the state of calm that Tony had been hoping he’d be in.

The billionaire turned the TV off, and looked down at his lap, brushing Peter’s hair back from his forehead.

“Feeling better?”

Peter nodded, releasing his living pacifier for the moment.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“I think we should go to be early, tonight. Traveling always makes me tired.”

“Okay, daddy. I’ll take Bob out, really quick.”

If they didn’t take him out, _now_ , he’d be waking them at four in the morning, needing to go. Tony knew it as well as Peter did.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“I always want you with me,” Peter told him, sincerely, kissing the head of Tony’s cock, once more, and then sitting up and stretching a little. “But you’re dressed for bed, and I’m not.” He was still in his jeans and t-shirt. “We won’t be long.”

“Alright. Put a jacket on.”

It wasn’t raining, but it was chilly and threatening to rain. Typical fall weather in New York and Tony didn’t want to risk the boy getting chilled.

Peter rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed at the reminder, but he wasn’t. He loved it, because it was yet another way that Tony showed him that he cared. He put on a sweatshirt, harnessed Bob and then put his SHIELD jacket on over the sweatshirt, and left.

Tony sat on the couch, stroking his cock, lightly, thinking about Peter, even after he was gone. He scowled, though, when the thought turned to Tate – and the fact that the boy had tried to call Peter. _That_ couldn’t be allowed. He had a few ways to deal with it, though. He could tell Monica – who was already feeling guilty about the whole mess, he could contact the boy directly and have a few words with him about how bad of an idea it was to harass Peter – which wouldn’t make Tony look good, despite having a very good reason to go at the kid.

His other option was a bit more drastic, but honestly, the uncertainty and fear he’d seen in Peter’s eyes earlier just made Tony furious the more he thought about it. His baby boy definitely didn’t deserve that. He tucked himself back into his pants for the moment, needing to focus.

“FRIDAY, call Natasha Romanoff…”

>>><<><><><>> 

It wasn’t really raining, Peter found when they went outside. It was kind of like the sky was spitting on him and his dog. Just enough drops that they knew something was happening, but not enough to warrant an umbrella or even pulling up his hood. He didn’t mind, though. He was warm, and despite the startling call from Tate, he felt relaxed after spending so much quiet time with Tony.

That made him smile, because it hadn’t _just_ been quiet time; it had been quiet time with his mouth on Tony’s cock for almost two hours – and it had been more relaxing than he would ever have believed. It was like the man’s penis was made to comfort him. It hadn’t been the first time that he’d thought it, or the first time that he’d enjoyed simply sucking him, or touching him, either.

He was sure there was probably some psychological word for the way Peter enjoyed feeling the very core of Tony’s masculinity right there in his mouth, but Peter didn’t know what it was, and he wasn’t going to bother looking it up. As long as Tony was willing to let him do it, though, he’d suck on him all night, really.

There weren’t a lot of people out; it was getting late and everyone was home getting themselves ready to start the new week the next day, but Bob suddenly alerted the boy that someone was getting a little closer than normal, drawing Peter from his musing and making him look the same direction the dog was.

A young woman was standing close by, looking uncertain, and she gave the big dog a look and Peter a slight smile.

“Are you Peter Parker?” she asked.

He hesitated, feeling as uncertain as she looked, but he nodded.

“Yes.”

“My name’s Gabriella,” she told him. “I don’t want to bother you, but I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

She smiled.

“My dad was in the cab that crashed over there,” she said, pointing toward the far corner. “You saved him. He’s a bit of a jerk, sometimes, but he’s all I have. I just wanted you to know I appreciated it.”

“Oh.” Peter smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“Can I hug you?”

“Oh. Um.”

He blushed, and she laughed, but it wasn’t cruel. Clearly, she understood just how awkward he was feeling, just then.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “I know it was weird to ask.”

“No. Not weird,” Peter assured her. “I just… well, no one’s… you _can_. If you _want_ , that is.”

She shook her head and offered him her hand, instead, and he took it.

“Thank you, Peter Parker.”

He smiled.

“You’re welcome.”

She walked away, leaving him standing by the tree for a long moment, bemused. He probably could have stood there all night, he was that surprised, but Bob was ready to move on and tugged lightly on the leash as he started to move. Peter shook himself out of his stupor and finished the walk without any further happenings.

>>><<><><>> 

Tony smiled from the couch when Peter and Bob walked out of the elevator.

“Hi, honey,” he said, softly. “How was the walk?”

Peter’s smile was genuine as he hung up Bob’s harness and leash.

“It was good, daddy,” he said, realizing that Tony still had his cock out of his pants and was stroking it, idly. The boy kicked off his shoes and hung up his jacket before walking over and pressing Tony’s knees apart so he could slide to the floor between them and look up at him. “There was a girl who wanted to hug me.”

He bent and put his mouth on Tony’s cock, then, intending to suck him in, but the older man frowned and pulled him gently off.

“What?”

“This girl wanted to hug me,” he repeated, stroking Tony’s cock, lightly. “To thank me for saving her dad. He was in that taxi, she said. Isn't that something?”

“Did she?” Tony asked.

“No.” he shrugged, flushing a little. “I froze. So, she just thanked me with a handshake and left. It was pretty cool, though,” Peter admitted. “It made me feel good. Is that bad?”

“No, baby. You _should_ be proud of what you did, saving the men in that cab. _I’m_ proud of you.”

Peter smiled.

“You are?”

“Of course I am.” Tony pulled the boy up into his lap, shifting him so he was straddling him, with his erect cock between their bellies. Then he drew Peter’s cheek down to his bare shoulder and ran his hand under the boy’s sweatshirt. “I keep telling you that you’re amazing, and brave and wonderful. You didn’t think I was making it up, did you?”

“Yeah. To make me feel good.”

“I say it to make you feel good, honey,” he said. “It doesn’t mean that it isn’t _true_ , though.” Tony turned his head, meeting Peter’s beautiful brown eyes with his own. “You’re so brave and great and perfect. It’s really _something_. I don't want you letting strangers on the street too close to you, though, okay? It might be dangerous for you if they have ulterior motives, besides just thanking you."

"You think someone might try to hurt me?"

"No. I don't think that someone _could_ , really - not as strong as you are. But they still might try, and that would scare me. Don't let a stranger close enough to you to hurt you, okay, honey?"

"Okay."

"You still did good, though," Tony reminded him, not wanting to dampen his good mood with the warning - necessary as it was. "You were wonderful."

Peter shivered, despite how warm he was, and his smile was happy, which made Tony smile, too. He kissed the boy, softly, and groaned when he felt Peter’s fingers wrap around his cock during the kiss.

“Daddy… can we play?”

“We’re just touching, tonight, honey,” he reminded him, gently. “I want you _relaxed_ , and you can’t be relaxed if I’m making you writhe under me, now can you?”

Peter pouted a little, but didn’t argue. Instead, he brought his cheek back to his shoulder with a soft sigh, his hand idly running along Tony’s shaft, keeping him delightfully hard.

“I like touching you.”

The billionaire smiled at the admission.

“I’m glad, baby, because I wouldn’t want anyone else but you to touch me like that.” He ran his hand along the boy’s back. “Why are you still wearing so many layers?” Tony complained, playfully, sliding his hands under the front of the sweatshirt Peter was wearing. “Should we go get my baby undressed and put him to bed?”

“With you…”

“Of _course_ , with me.”

"Yes."


	134. 134

The first thing Peter was aware of the next morning was a heavy weight coming to rest on him, covering his entire upper body. His legs were being nudged apart and a hard, throbbing rod was brushing against his inner thigh at the same time coarse facial hair was brushing against his cheek.

“Wake up, honey,” Tony whispered, deliciously, in his ear, making him shiver, despite them both being under the blankets, still. “Daddy needs his baby…”

The boy moaned, turning his head a little so he could see Tony, who wasn’t moving, yet, giving him a chance to wake up – _and_ a chance to say no, if he wasn’t interested in getting himself filled with his daddy’s morning wood.

Peter smiled, sleepily, though, and Tony could feel him pressing against him, even as the boy woke up a little.

“Hi, daddy…”

“Good morning,” Tony crooned. He rested his weight on the arm that was bracing himself above Peter – enough to keep the boy from bearing his full weight, but not enough to keep him from being belly to back with him – and started playing with Peter’s ass with the other hand, a lubed finger sliding into him. “I want to be inside you. Okay?”

The boy nodded and allowed his cheek to fall to the bedding. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of being played with; of being stretched by one finger, and then another – moaning softly each time Tony’s fingers found that spot inside him that made him tremble in pure pleasure.

“Yes. Daddy…”

“You’re so tight this morning, baby,” Tony told him. “Beautiful and _sexy_.” The throbbing cock brushing against Peter was swelling even more as the older man rutted himself against him in time with the invasion of his fingers. “Ask me for it, baby… beg me…”

“ _Please_ , daddy,” Peter whined, opening his eyes and meeting Tony’s. He could see the desire on the handsome face, and it made him press back, less role play, now, and more true hunger. “Please, daddy? I need you inside me. _Please_?”

“You want me?”

“Yes.”

“Only _me_ , though, right, honey? Just daddy gets to fuck his beautiful, pretty baby.”

The fingers retreated and Peter spread his thighs even wider, hitching his hips upward as well as he could to help Tony find the best angle.

“Only you can be my daddy,” Peter moaned. “Just you. I’m only yours. Please, daddy…”

“What do you want, baby boy?” Tony asked, the head of his cock braced against Peter’s entrance.

“Fuck me, daddy…”

“God, you’re amazing,” Tony whispered, sliding himself into the boy with a firm, slow thrust that only ended when he was hilted completely inside Peter. “So perfect. So brave. So fucking tight for daddy…”

His hips were moving slowly, lazily claiming the boy as his own, yet again, with easy thrusts that were intended to give Peter a chance to find and acclimate himself to the rhythm of Tony’s lovemaking.

The boy trembled, again, under the litany of praise, as Tony knew he would, and he pressed his lips against Peter’s, his tongue darting into the boy’s mouth as a hard thrust made him gasp in pleasure. Tony’s kiss was hungry, and Peter’s ardor was rising to match it, now that he was waking up. He tasted his daddy’s flavor, and whimpered, trying to press back hard enough on each thrust to make sure he took every inch Tony had to give him.

“Yes…”

“So amazing,” Tony murmured, breaking the kiss as he began to breathe a little faster, his heart pounding hard in his chest as his thrusts increased in speed and fury, even as his voice stayed calm and loving. “ _Amazing. Beautiful. Wonderful_.”

Each thrust a new word, until he groaned and finally pressed Peter into the mattress with a final, hard motion, burying himself deeper than ever and holding the boy pinned as his cock erupted inside him, washing his inner walls with thick, hot, cum.

Peter held himself still, allowing Tony to do what he wanted, feeling the warmth spread inside him, and pressing back enough to make sure he was given everything he offered. Only when he felt his body lose some of the tautness and collapse on top of his own did he relax a little, with a soft sigh of pleasure.

“That was nice, daddy,” he crooned, approvingly, kissing the arm that was braced by his head. “Thank you.”

Tony chuckled, and pulled out of Peter, shifting them enough so that he wasn’t laying on him, any longer, but was now spooning him, their bodies smeared with sweat, lube, and Tony’s cum.

“It _was_ nice,” he agreed, pressing a kiss against Peter’s ear, now, hugging the boy close and catching his breath a little more. They weren’t done, by any means; Peter was hard, but Tony was well aware that he hadn’t given the boy a chance to climax, and he was going to more than make up for it before allowing him to get out of bed and start his day. “ _You’re_ nice, honey,” Tony told him, sliding his hand along the boy’s hip. “So nice to your daddy. Now it’s _my_ turn to be nice to you…”

Peter’s response was a strangled moan of pleasure, harmonized by Tony’s much deeper chuckle of amusement.

>>><><><><< 

Despite their early morning activities, they were still on track with their schedule for the day. Not that it was all that tight, really, but a thoroughly satiated Peter took Bob for his morning walk while Tony made them breakfast, and they were finished eating in time for them to shower, and for Tony to shave, while Peter watched, with interest – both dressed only in boxers, so far.

“How did you decide what you wanted your face to look like?” he asked curiously, running his hand along his own smooth cheek and jawline. “Trial and error? Did you try a few different looks until you knew what you wanted?”

“I did a magazine interview,” the billionaire told him, watching his reflection in the mirror as he cleaned his face of the leftover shaving gel. “There was a poll done, after, and I let the world decide.”

“ _Really_?”

Tony smiled.

“Would I lie to you?”

Peter shrugged, smiling at the man's reflection.

“If it made me feel good, I think you _might_.”

“Let me rephrase that, then,” Tony said. “Because you are absolutely correct – to a _point_. I would never lie to you about something _important_. Fair?”

“Yes.”

“I love you,” Tony told him, picking the boy up, bodily, and setting him on the vanity, next to the sink. “More than I’ve ever loved _anyone_.”

Peter’s smile was soft, his eyes watching Tony and echoing the love in the older man’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“You doubt me?” Tony asked, smiling, spreading some shaving gel on the boy’s cheeks, bringing it along his jaws and meeting on his chin.

“No, daddy,” Peter replied, immediately, and with certainty. “I believe you love me. I love _you_ , too.”

Tony nodded, picking up his razor.

“Hold still, honey…” He made a show of using the razor to clear the shaving gel from the boy’s face – never mind that he was holding it upside down and using the _dull_ edge of the tool, the razor’s edge never coming near Peter’s delicate skin. “Always _with_ the grain, little boy. That’s how you avoid razor burn, _and_ you make sure you get all the little stubble. Got it?”

Peter’s eyes were amused, and maybe just a little excited at getting a life-lesson from him, and he watched Tony’s eyes as the billionaire concentrated on making the neat tracks in the gel on the boy’s face.

“Got it.”

He finished the job with a flourish, and then washed what little he’d missed with a wet, warm towel before cupping Peter’s cheeks with the palms of his hands, holding him still and locking gazes with him.

“You’re so beautiful, Peter.”

The boy blushed a brilliant shade of red, lowering his head, bashfully, and smiling up at him, his eyes so happy that Tony felt his heart flip-flop in his chest.

“Thank you, daddy.”

“You’re welcome.” Tony kissed him, softly. “Now… you have school, and I have a few phone calls to make. Then we’ll see if Monica still wants to have lunch with us.”

Tony was curious what the woman had found out from her lawyers – even though he had no intention of letting Peter be part of that conversation.

“Sound good.”

“Good.” Another kiss. “Go get dressed, honey.”


	135. 135

Peter was at the table, working on one of the displays as he had been for the last hour or so when Tony walked up behind him, a hand coming to rest on the boy’s shoulder as he looked to see what he was working on.

“History?”

“Yes.”

“ _Aztecs_ , still?”

The boy nodded.

“For a few more lessons, if I understand the syllabus right.”

“ _Correct_ ,” FRIDAY agreed.

“I need to go pick something up, honey. Are you okay if I leave for a bit?”

“Yeah. Of course. You’ll be back by lunch?”

“Even before then,” Tony promised. “Need anything?”

“No, daddy. I’m good.”

The billionaire pressed a kiss against his temple.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Okay.”

Peter watched as Tony picked up his car keys, stopped long enough to scratch Bob’s ears, and then grabbed his jacket and left. Then he went back to his lesson.

>>><><><><<> 

True to his word, Tony was back in less than forty-five minutes. FRIDAY told Peter that he was coming, so he wasn’t startled when the elevator dinged an alert that the door was opening, and he looked up from the final paragraph he and the AI were going over, just in time to see Tony walk into the room with a brown paper bag in his hand.

“I’m home,” the older man announced, unnecessarily, smiling.

“Hi, daddy.”

Tony crossed the room to hug his baby, leaning over to kiss his cheek, tenderly.

“Did you miss me?”

“You _left_?”

That made Tony chuckle, and Peter smiled, pleased that his teasing had been so well received.

“Just for _that_ ,” Tony told him, tapping his adorable nose. “You don’t get to see what I brought you until later.”

Peter’s eyes lit up.

“You brought me something?”

“I _did_.”

“What?”

“It’s a _surprise_. Are you done with your history, yet?”

“Almost.”

“Finish your schoolwork, then I’ll show you. Maybe.” He smirked, doing a little teasing of his own. “ _Or_ , maybe I’ll make you wait until tomorrow…”

Peter groaned, dramatically.

“Daddy…”

Tony kissed him, again, but held the bag away from the boy.

“Later, honey.”

“At _Recess_?”

“FRIDAY? How is he doing? Paying attention?”

_“He’s the best student I’ve ever had_ ,” came the AI’s response.

“He’s the _only_ student that you’ve ever had.”

_“That doesn’t negate the sentence.”_

The billionaire rolled his eyes, but nodded his agreement.

“I’ll show you at recess. Get back to work.”

Peter did what he was told, turning his attention back to the display and Tony kissed him, once more.

“I’m going to go talk to Monica, okay? I’ll find out if she’s going to have lunch with us. Have FRIDAY let me know when you’re done.”

“Alright, daddy.”

Tony put the paper bag in his room, and then left.

>>>><><<>> 

Only a few minutes later, he was sitting on the sofa, idly rubbing Boomer’s ears while accepting a cup of coffee from the older woman.

“The lawyers say Peter has to press charges in order to bring anything official in front of a judge,” she said, looking apologetic. “Do you think he’d be willing to do that?”

“I don’t know,” the billionaire said, honestly. “But I’m not inclined to let him go through the stress of it. If Tate had actually succeeded in his attempt, it’d be another matter, entirely. As it is, though, Peter has enough nightmares and demons to deal with, I’d rather not add any more.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she admitted. “But I’m not going to let him get away with what he did, either. It’s inexcusable. You wouldn’t believe the filth I found on his tablet and his phone. His father tried to tell me that boys will be boys,” she rolled her eyes, a spark of fury in them. “I pointed out to him that attempted rape is not the same as a catcall. I _also_ reminded him that his son weighs twice what Peter does, and could very well have seriously injured him.”

“Tell me he was a little less cavalier about the whole thing after that?”

“He certainly seemed to be.” She shrugged. “I know my daughter-in-law was furious, which is a start. Tate won’t be bothering you – or _Peter_ – again, Tony. Between now and the day he goes off to college, he’ll be lucky to have any free time to watch _cartoons_ , let alone the stuff that he was watching.”

“I’m relieved.”

She nodded.

“I’ve also pulled his car, his expense money and his phone – all of which I paid for. If his folks decide to give him any of that, it’s fine but it will be a telling blow to his freedom, I assure you.”

“Gramma isn’t happy…”

Monica shook her head.

“Not at all. The other boys have heard about it, too. My son William is the only one who’s actually _seen_ Peter, so when Tate cried to his uncle that Peter was the aggressor, William didn’t need to see any pictures to know what a crock of shit my grandson was trying to shove down his throat.”

“Your son met Peter?” Tony repeated, confused.

“He owns an antique shop a few blocks from here. Peter and I happened in there a little while ago.”

“That’s where he bought my cuff links.”

“Right.” She smiled, for the first time since letting him in the door. “Peter didn’t know he was my _son_ , of course, but that just made it easier for me to talk him down on the price – and to authenticate their provenance. But, anyway, William knows Peter’s a little guy, and there’s no mistaking Tate’s size for anything but big. He’s never given us cause to think he’s anything other than a sweetheart, until now – but this behavior isn’t acceptable and the family won’t tolerate it.”

“I appreciate that, Monica. Peter would, too.”

“But we’re not going to tell him, right?”

“I’ll address it with him, a little. So there’s closure. I don’t want something like this hanging over his head.”

“I don’t, either. You know him best, so whatever you want to do, I’ll follow your lead.”

“Thanks. He sent me down to make sure you’re willing to have lunch with us. Interested?”

“Depends…” she said, smiling. “Are you going to let me buy?”

“No.” _He_ smiled, too, and told her about the _Dallas Mechanical Bull Riding Fund_. “Peter said he wants to buy lunch. So let him, okay?”

“I suppose. But next time, it’ll be on me.”

“Fair-“ he was interrupted by his watch. “Speak of the devil, he’s done with his first block of lessons. I need to get going.”

“Lunch at one?”

“Sounds good. We’ll come collect you and Boomer, here, and find a good place.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

>>>>>>><<<><><<<< 

“Done?”

“With History, yes.”

_“FRIDAY? Did he do it, right?”_

“Of course.”

“Did you _learn_ anything?” Tony asked the boy, who had stood up to stretch after sitting in one spot for so long and walked over to slide into his arms, pressing his cheek against his chest.

“Right now, _I_ probably know more about the Aztec than _you_ do.”

Tony smiled, burying his face in Peter’s curls.

“That’s a fair guess. Go get the bag I set on my bed and bring it here – but don’t open it.”

“Okay.”

Peter let him go, and Tony sat down on the sofa with a contented sigh and a smile of anticipation. The boy was back in only a moment, bringing it over and handing it to Tony.

“Thank you.”

“What is it?”

“I got you a toy,” Tony said, reaching into the bag. “Not another anal plug,” he said, before Peter could say anything, one way or the other. “This one’s completely different, but I thought you might like it.”

“Yeah?”

Peter watched as Tony pulled out a fairly small package – not a lot bigger than a tea bag, and broke open the seal on it.

“Get me some lube, honey.”

The boy frowned but did as he was told, thinking that if it was supposed to go into his rear, at least it wasn’t that big. Tony took the tube, setting the bag aside, and reaching for the front of Peter’s jeans. He unbuttoned them, unzipped them and then pulled them down, along with Peter’s boxers, but he didn’t reach for the boy’s ass, to Peter’s surprise.

Instead, he started slicking Peter’s penis with the lube, getting a fine sheen on the surface, and then wiping his hands on a towel, before reaching for the new toy.

“It’s not latex,” he said, as he rolled what looked like a black condom onto Peter’s penis, teasing it a little as he did. “And it’s very stretchy, so it’ll allow your cock to get nice and hard.”

“What does it _do_?” Peter asked, curiously, looking down at it. Now the thing was all the way on him; his penis completely covered from head to root by the material, which felt lightweight and a little odd. There were hundreds of tiny bumps, like a ribbed condom, all down the length and only the very tip of the head of his penis was clear, the slit sticking out, almost obscenely, so it obviously _wasn’t_ a condom. “I don’t get it.”

The billionaire smiled, reaching into the bag once more and pulling out a small device – what looked like a key fob.

“You’ll see in a moment,” he promised. Peter saw him press a button, making a green light come on, and then, fiddle with it. “Here we go…”

Tony pushed a button, watching the boy, expectantly, and Peter started to ask what was supposed to happen when he suddenly gasped. All up and down the length of his penis those little bumps were suddenly vibrating, softly, engulfing his penis with a hundred tiny massages all at one.

“Oh, my…”

His knees gave out and he had sit down.

“Does it hurt?” Tony asked, suddenly worried, turning it off.

“No.” The boy was almost breathless. “That… _wow_.”

Tony’s eyes lit up.

“You _liked_ it?”

“I think so… try it, again?”

The billionaire turned it back on, and watched as Peter leaned back into the leather of the sofa, closing his eyes with a soft sigh. He saw Peter’s fingers clench into tight fists, and then watched with fascinated glee as the boy’s cock began to harden inside the sleeve.

“There are three settings,” Tony told him. “That’s the lowest. Let’s give medium a try…”

He couldn’t hear the vibrations – even in the middle setting – but he saw the difference in Peter’s reaction. The boy’s entire body tensed and his hand reached for Tony, who took it, closing his fingers around Peter’s.

“Oh, _God_ …”

“Is it hurting you?”

“No. It almost feels so good that it hurts…”

“Can you handle it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like it?”

“It feels good.” He opened his eyes, though. “Turn it off, daddy.”

Tony did as requested and Peter’s body lost a lot of the tension. But now there was a new worry in the boy's eyes.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“You’ll still play with me?”

The billionaire smiled, and hugged Peter close, bringing his head to his shoulder.

“This isn’t to replace anything, honey,” he assured him. He’d learned that lesson. “This is for in between times. I’m still going to suck you, and tease you and play with you – all that you can handle. But _this_ thing can be modified into wireless. You can be home, and I can be in my office, and I push this button, and suddenly you’re going to have a very interesting afternoon.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s safe to wear, all day. We’ll make sure to use plenty of lube – especially since it acts as a conduit for the vibrations, as well.”

“Turn it back on, daddy.”

He did, leaving it on the low setting, and smiling at the bliss in Peter’s expression.

“Do you like it, baby? Will you wear it?”

“It feels good,” Peter told him.

“Pull your pants back up,” Tony told him. “It’s so lightweight, the only way someone would know it’s on is because you’re hard. When you climax, you just wipe the tip of your cock off, and sit back and wait for the next. Or you hope that I don’t turn it off, right at the worst possible minute.”

Peter slid his jeans back on.

“Did you get you one, too?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It’s a toy for my _baby_.”

Peter smiled, and climbed into Tony’s lap, straddling him. Then he pulled his zipper down, pulling his still hard cock out of his pants. A moment later, he was working Tony’s zipper and fishing his penis out of his slacks, too. He pressed his cock against Tony’s and the billionaire could feel the miniscule vibrations against his own tender rod. It felt amazing.

“I want _you_ to have one, too, daddy,” Peter told him. “Then I can make you feel good, even when you’re not home.”

“You want to control daddy’s cock when you’re not around to suck me?”

“Yes, daddy,” Peter told him, stroking the older man’s cock, now, and enjoying the way it was swelling in his hand. “ _Please_?”

Tony nodded, groaning with pleasure at Peter’s touch – and at being called daddy, of course.

“I’ll go get another as soon as recess is over, baby.”

“Good.”

“ _Until_ then, though, let’s turn yours up to _medium_ , and while it’s making you nice and hard for me, you can suck on my cock.”

Peter moaned as the vibrations intensified, and was already feeling the difference as he slid to the floor between Tony’s knees, reaching for his cock.

“Yes, daddy.”


	136. 136

“There’s money in your wallet,” Tony told Peter as the boy harnessed Bob just before one o’clock.

Peter nodded, not making any protest, now, since he knew it was part of the money that the businessman in Dallas had paid over to Natasha for Peter winning him his bull riding bet.

“Okay, daddy. Thanks.”

He was going to buy their lunch, so he’d need some. The money that he’d had before had been decimated at the souvenir shops in Dallas, after all - although it was money that had been well spent, as far as Peter was concerned. He finished harnessing Bob, and then reached into his pocket with a mischievous glance over at Tony, who rolled his eyes and then forced down a slight gasp when he felt the sleeve wrapped around his penis start to vibrate, gently, against the length of him.

“God, that’s _good_ …”

Tony had gone back to the adult novelty store once he and Peter were finished with recess and Peter went to work on his math block. He’d purchased another one of the vibrating sleeves – and extra batteries for the key fobs. He’d been tempted to mess with Peter’s while he was out – and had given in for a few minutes; turning Peter’s to _medium_ , even – but he didn’t want the boy too distracted while he was doing schoolwork, and so had turned it off, reluctantly.

When he returned to the apartment, Peter had pulled away from his math long enough to watch with interest as Tony had lubed himself up and rolled the vibrating sheath on. Then had smiled at the look on the older man’s face when he’d started the thing up. Even on low, it was incredible, resonating all along the billionaire’s shaft and even the extremely sensitive underside of the head of his cock.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Peter had asked, rhetorically.

“Yeah, honey. Not as good as what _you_ do to me, but pretty good.”

The boy reached over and took the fob from him, and turned it to medium for a moment, making Tony close his eyes and concentrate on what was being done to him. It was almost a disappointment when Peter turned it off and went back to his math – after putting the fob into his pocket, silently telling Tony that _he_ was now responsible for how the thing was used while his daddy was wearing it.

Which was fair, Tony decided, pulling his jeans and boxers back up and buttoning his pants, then adjusting things just a little before pulling up a display and starting to work on the new nanotech Ironman suit.

Now, though, Peter was done for the day, so they were going to go have lunch with Monica. But both of them had their fobs in their pockets, and Peter had already proven that he was enjoying the bliss on Tony’s face when he activated his.

“I’ll remind you that walking with a full-blown hard-on isn’t _comfortable_ ,” Tony told him as they headed for the elevator. “And that we haven’t even _tried_ the high setting, yet, but I _will_ if you go crazy on me.”

“I’ll be good, daddy,” he promised, turning the device off, for the moment.

Tony was right, after all, and Peter didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. Not to mention they were having lunch with a woman that Peter thought of as a _grandmother_. _He_ didn’t want to be walking around aroused with her standing beside him.

>>><><><><< 

Monica was waiting with Boomer when they arrived at her door. The Rottweiler was already harnessed and ready, so she simply closed the door behind her, and the three of them headed for the lobby, and then out onto the street.

“Where do you want to eat?” Peter asked her, politely.

“There are a few very nice cafes along this street,” she reminded the boy. “They have outdoor areas, and cater to people with dogs, so we can order and eat outside.”

“It’s a good day for it,” Tony agreed.

Peter nodded. It was sunny, and not too chilly – although he was wearing the black Avengers sweatshirt Natasha had given him to replace the one Tate had torn. They ambled along the street at Bob’s leisurely pace and found an Italian place with an outdoor area only a few blocks down the street. Peter had seen it a few times during his wanderings – _with_ Monica, and without – but had never tried it.

“Italian?” he asked the adults.

Tony deferred to Monica, who was more than willing. They entered the outdoor area, and a server immediately brought three glasses of water and then returned with a bowl of water and treats for the dogs, who settled under the table, easily.

A moment later they were given menus, and Peter reminded them both that they could have anything that they wanted, because he was buying.

“Tell me about Dallas,” Monica suggested once everyone had placed their order with the server. Peter was going to have lasagna – no shock to Tony, who already knew the boy loved it – and the other two were going a little lighter for lunch with Monica having an Italian chef salad, while Tony was getting a half order of spaghetti and they were all already nibbling on breadsticks. “Was it nice?”

“We went to Frontier Town,” Peter told her, unnecessarily. She’d seen some pictures that he’d sent to her phone. “I rode a mechanical bull, and then learned how to ride a horse, and then we took old time photos in chaps and gun belts and dresses – and then we played games on the midway.”

She’d already heard about the midway when they’d brought her the souvenirs, so she wasn’t interested in that, but the rest of it was interesting, and Peter and Tony told her about the bet that he and Steve had made with Natasha about eating hot peppers – although the boy didn’t mention the stakes.

“What did you wager?” Monica asked, curiously, wondering what possibly could have made Tony Stark’s cheeks redden just a little when he’d mentioned that he lost the bet.

Peter smiled, but he turned his head so that Tony didn’t see, pretending to suddenly be interested in making sure that Bob’s leash wasn’t tangled. The billionaire hadn’t missed the boy’s amusement, though, and Monica’s expression was curious enough that he knew he wasn’t going to be able to make something up.

He told her about the dance hall dresses that he and Steve had been forced to wear, and then even showed her the photo that had been taken – although he refused to send her a copy of the picture, which had made Peter chuckle.

Tony was saved by the arrival of their lunch, and Peter left the conversation to the adults while he focused, hungrily, on his meal.  Tony was asking Monica about a merger that her flower conglomerate was making with a small business that was growing online ridiculously fast, and Peter reached into his pocket to pull out another treat for the dogs.

The fob came out, as well, the key ring wrapped on his pinky and falling onto the table with a couple of bacon flavored dog treats. Monica reached for it before Peter could, picking it up.

“What does this go to?” she asked. “Something new? High tech?” She was always interested in the latest new gadgets and assumed that since he was living with Tony, the boy was bound to have all the latest things. “It looks like the thing I have that finds my cell phone and my keys when I misplace them.”

Peter blanched, and shook his head.

“Oh. Um. Yeah. I mean, no. It’s not for that…”

“Mine doesn’t have three buttons, though,” Monica said, not paying attention, absorbed in the device and trying to figure out how it worked. She held her thumb against the top button, cocking her head and clearly getting ready for the beeping noise that would signal where Peter’s phone was. “It only had _two_ things to find, so only two different buttons.”

“It’s not a _device locator_ , Monica,” Tony told her, concerned, reaching out to take it from her hand just as she pressed the top button with her thumb.

The billionaire’s fork fell to the sidewalk with a clatter and Peter was quick to take the fob, carefully, from her hand, trying to act nonchalant as Tony’s eyes rolled up into his head and the color drained from his face as all the blood in his body raced south in response to the vibrations that were shooting along his most sensitive of places.

He turned it off, giving Tony an apologetic look as he did, and Monica shrugged as he put the fob back in his pocket.

“ _Broken_?”

“The battery’s probably dead,” Peter told her, his lower lip vanishing between his teeth, and another glance at Tony showing the older man with the heel of his hand discreetly pressed against the front of his jeans – under his cloth napkin. “I’ll take care of that later…”

“Good idea,” Tony replied.

“Another breadstick, dear?” Monica asked, oblivious – _luckily_ – to the byplay that was going on around her.

“Thank you.”


	137. 137

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank you all for reading this. I know it's long and all over the place as far as subjects and domesticity, but thanks!

Despite the hiccup, lunch was a good time, although it was eventually cut short when Monica received a call from the flower shop and ended up being called away. They were finishing dessert when her car and driver pulled up to the curb by the restaurant, and she hugged Peter, warmly, thanking him for lunch and telling both of them that she’d see them, later. Tony opened the back door of the car for her – making her quip about an iron _door_ man before hustling Boomer into the back of the car with her and driving off with a wave.

Peter and Tony weren’t in any hurry, so they lingered over their dessert, enjoying being outside on a nice day when they both knew that once the weather changed there wouldn’t be a lot more day like this until spring.

“Anything else you want to do while we’re out?” Tony asked Peter as the boy paid the check.

He hesitated.

“Are you in a hurry to get back? We’re not too far from the comic book store…”

“No. There’s no hurry.”

Besides, Tony was pleased with Peter for stating what he wanted – even if it was just a detour on their way home.

They gathered Bob and walked together, pleasantly full. Tony wished that he could put his arm around Peter, or at least hold his hand, but that wasn’t possible in public, so he settled for a tender smile any time the boy looked over at him, instead, which would make Peter smile back at him.

“You didn’t get hurt?” Peter asked as they rounder the corner by the comic shop. “By the… um… _thing_?”

“Oh, no. It most certainly didn’t _hurt_ ,” Tony assured him, ruefully. “Maybe we can keep the controller in our _pocket_ , next time, though?”

He smiled, to make certain Peter knew he wasn’t upset – and he _wasn’t_. He was able to see the humor in the situation – now that he was beyond the moment, anyway – and it probably could have been worse.

The boy nodded, his eyes still happy, which told Tony he succeeded in reassuring him.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Peter promised.

Which left _Tony_ smiling, too, thinking of all the ways _that_ could happen. He took Bob’s leash from Peter when they reached the door to the comic store.

“I’ll watch Bob. They’d probably prefer _not_ to have a bull loose in their china shop.”

“I won’t be long.”

“Take all the time you need, honey,” he said, leaning slightly against the heavy glass front of the shop, and pointing to a display of Ironman action figures – along with Thor, Hulk, Captain America and others. “I’ve got _company_.”

Peter chuckled and went inside, smiling a greeting at the guy behind the counter.

“Is that your dog?” the guy asked, curiously, looking at Bob from across the store and through the window.

“Yeah.”

“Awesome.”

The guy – he wasn’t much older than _Peter_ , really, leaned over to get a better look, but Bob and Tony were both somewhat blocked by the displays. Peter had talked to him, before, on his last trip into the store – before he had Bob and then hadn’t been able to stop in to look around.

“Yeah. He’s pretty neat.”

“Looking for anything in particular?”

“Nah. Just something to do.”

“Is that your _dad_?”

“My roommate.”

_Kind of._

“Do you play D&D?”

Peter looked over, perking up a little.

“I haven’t in a while, but I _have_. You?”

The boy smiled.

“Of course. I’m a nerd. It’s what we _do_ , right?”

“Yeah.”

“We play here,” the boy told him. “On Thursdays. There aren’t many of us, though, so we could always use a fourth. A _fifth_ , if your roommate wanted to play, too.”

“I have school in the morning and then I have to work,” Peter said, still looking hopeful. “What time do you play?”

“In the evening. We start sometime around seven. What do you do?”

“I’m a lab assistant.”

“Lab? Like _dogs_? Or like evil scientist?”

“Bruce Banner.”

“No _shit_?”

Peter smiled, a little surprised.

“You know who he is?”

“Yeah. Of course, I do. That’s fucking _sweet_ , dude. You _really_ know him?”

“Yeah. I mean, well... Yeah.”

“What do you do for him?”

“Catalogue data and wash a lot of dishes.”

“That’s cool.”

“I’m Peter.”

The other guy smiled, holding his hand out, officially.

“I’m Ned.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“So? Want to play D&D with us?”

“I don’t have any of my character sheets,” Peter told him. He'd lost them a long time ago. “I’d need to roll a new one.”

“That’s alright. We have a pretty strong party, so we could protect your little guy until he’s leveled a few times.” He shrugged. “My mom is the DM, so she’ll make sure you don’t die right off the bat.”

“That sounds great. _Really_.” Peter couldn’t hide his excitement, but Ned didn’t seem to think it was unusual, at all. _He_ liked D&D, too, after all. “You play here?” Peter repeated, looking at the cluttered shop with all of the displays.

“Upstairs,” Ned told him. “We live above the shop.”

“You own this place?”

Ned shrugged.

“My mom and dad do. I just help out when I’m done with school.”

“What school do you go to?”

“Home schooled.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“What grade?”

“I’m a senior. You?”

“Same. I could have graduated, by now,” Ned told him with another shrug. “But my mom doesn’t want me to be out on my own at fifteen, so she said I have to wait and be at least seventeen.” He rolled his eyes.

“You’re only fifteen?”

“Yeah. You?”

“I just turned sixteen, last month.”

Ned looked a little older than fifteen, and Peter knew that _he_ had a baby face and would be getting carded for the rest of his life, most likely.

“Cool.” He gestured toward the front of the store where Tony had his face pressed up against the window, watching. “Your roommate can come in, you know? We don’t mind dogs in here – as long as they don’t crap on the floor or piss on the shelves.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” He didn’t wait for Peter to reply, he just turned toward the man outside the store and waved, gesturing for him to come on in. “That’s the good thing about owning the place, right? We get to make the rules.”

“True.”

Peter smiled when Tony and Bob walked into the shop, and headed for the counter, and Ned’s eyes grew wide as he realized who he was looking at.

“Holy shit…”

The billionaire smiled, realizing that Peter must not have told him who he was – and the display and the glass must have blocked the clerk’s view enough that he hadn’t recognized him. Which made the invitation to come into the store even better, because it hadn’t been a hope of meeting him – it had been a welcome. Tony liked that.

Enough that he was willing to be far more friendly than he might have been.

“Who’s your friend, Peter?” he asked, looking at Ned and hoping that he wasn’t going to pass out.

“Oh, my God… you’re… you’re _Tony Stark_. Aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“This is Ned, Tony,” Peter introduced. “His folks own the store – _and_ he invited me to play D&D with him on Thursday.”

“Really?” Tony held his hand out to Ned, who was so shocked that he actually took it. “That’s great. Do we need to rearrange your schedule with Bruce?”

Ned turned to Peter.

“Tony Stark is your _roommate_? Are you fucking _kidding_ me?”

Peter nodded.

“Yeah. I mean, no. He _is_.”

“You _are_?”

“I _am_ ,” Tony confirmed. “What time does D&D start, Ned?” he asked. “Do we need to get Peter out of work that day?”

“Seven.”

“I can still work,” Peter said, grinning. “ _And_ his mom is DM, so I can roll a new character and still play. He said she won't let me die too quickly.”

“Good.”

“We have room for more players,” Ned said, still staring at Tony. “Do you want to play?”

“I don’t think so. But I’d like to come _watch_ – if you don’t think I’ll be a distraction to the game?”

He wasn’t going to turn Peter loose without making sure this wasn’t going to be another Tate situation.

“You will,” Ned assured him. “But, yeah. We’d love to have you come. You can hang out with my dad, if you want. He doesn’t like D&D, but my mom makes him make all the sound effects for her campaigns.”

“Do you have some character sheets?” Peter asked, almost rhetorically, since he was in a comic shop, after all. “I’ll need a set of dice, too – and an elf figuring, if you have any.”

He already knew what kind of character he was going to roll himself.

“Yeah.” Ned finally tore his attention from Tony to wave Peter to the D&D and other tabletop gaming section. “Get whatever you want.”

Tony smiled. He couldn’t be more pleased by the kid that he was seeing in front of him. Obviously responsible enough to be left in charge of the family store – which meant that he was mature, but a true nerd, clearly. And _happy_. He thought, maybe, Peter might actually have found a friend around his own age – and not one that was going to be competition for the boy’s attention.

Well, his _attention_ , maybe. But not everything _else_.

“While Peter’s picking out what he needs, Ned, how about a _picture_?” Tony asked, pulling out his phone. “That way I can post it on my social media to prove to everyone that I met you?”

Peter laughed, turning toward the display to get what he needed, while Tony and Ned started taking selfies.


	138. 138

“Well, that was a _lot_ of fun.”

Peter nodded his agreement, all smiles as he and Tony – and Bob – exited the elevator much later.

“Yeah, it was.”

They’d spent almost an hour in the comic book store.

Peter had found all that he needed for making his character, and then had added a few resource books – just to make sure that he was up to date on the latest versions. While he’d been doing that, Tony had posted a picture of him and Ned on his Facebook and Instagram and had given Ned permission to do the same.

Tony hadn’t failed to give the Leed’s comic book store a little promoting, saying it was the greatest place ever and that if _he_ needed anything superhero related, _that_ was where he shopped. Then he had Ned take a picture of himself outside the front door.

Not surprisingly, people started showing up.

Ned’s parents were summoned by their son to come down to the shop to meet Tony Stark, and both knew who he was, of course. They were shocked to find the man himself actually standing in their store. Not as shocked as they were to find that their normally slow and casual comic store was suddenly inundated by people, all wanting to shop in the same place that Tony Stark shopped.

By then, Tony and Peter weren’t in the shop – mainly to avoid causing a stampede. Ned’s parents had shown them a back door out into the alley and had told both how pleased they’d be to see them on Thursday evening for D&D. They mentioned that it would be fine to bring Bob, as well, and had then hurried away to go help Ned with the influx of customers.

“That place will be a madhouse for a while, won’t it?” Peter asked, unharnessing Bob and hanging the leash and harness on the hook.

“It _will_ ,” Tony agreed. “And they’ll make a lot of money, I hope.”

It couldn’t happen to nicer people, really. Both of Ned’s parents were genuine and open – it was obvious where their son got his good nature.

Peter kicked off his shoes and then carried his bag of D&D related items over and set them on the coffee table, watching Tony to see if he was going to end up on the sofa, or somewhere else. The billionaire recognized what he was doing and slipped _his_ shoes off, as well, reaching into his pocket and pressing the button for the lowest setting on the toy that was still wrapped around Peter’s penis.

Something that he’d almost forgotten about in the excitement after lunch, but was now utterly aware of.

He paled, just a little, and closed his eyes for a moment while Tony walked over to the sofa and settled himself.

“Something wrong, honey?” he asked, smiling, patting his lap in open invitation.

Peter climbed into his lap, arms coming around Tony’s torso and his cheek finding his favorite shoulder.

_“Daddy…”_

“Does it feel good?” Tony asked him, running his hands under Peter’s jeans to cup his ass and bring him right up against him.

“Yes.”

“Shall we go to medium?”

Peter didn’t lift his head. He simply nodded.

“Okay.”

Tony released one cheek long enough to do just that, and the boy trembled, a little, in his arms.

“Are you alright?” the billionaire asked him, turning his head to kiss him.

“Yes.”

“Feels good, still?”

“It’s _intense_.”

Of course, Tony already knew that Peter was ultra-sensitive to touch – _probably_ from the Spiderman thing, but maybe it had only enhanced what was already there, naturally.

“We’re not going to go to the high setting on you, honey,” he murmured, brushing his lips once more against Peter’s. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I think it _might_.”

“Did it hurt you when Monica did it?” Peter asked, again.

“No. But it was _really_ intense, like you just mentioned. And it could overwhelm you. I’m willing to do a lot of things to experiment with you, baby boy, but I’m not willing to risk hurting you doing it.”

“Because you _love_ me,” Peter said, smiling, beatifically.

“Right. You’re my special, brave boy,” Tony crooned. “My amazing baby.”

Now he was trembling for a reason that had nothing to do with the setting on the toy, and Peter moaned, softly.

“Let’s take them off, daddy,” he suggested, grinding his now fully aroused cock against Tony’s belly, even through his jeans. “ _I_ want to make you feel good. Not the toy.”

“Yeah?” He turned off the fob and tossed it to the side, and kissed Peter, again, before pushing him back just enough to reach for his jeans. “I _do_ seem to remember you promising to make it up to me, honey.”

Peter nodded, watching as Tony opened his jeans and fished his cock out from his boxers without pulling them down. The older man carefully pulled the black tubing off, and then ran his fingertips along Peter’s shaft until he was touching the head, which seemed to be pulsing in the same rhythm as Peter’s heart.

“That feels good, daddy.”

“You’re so hard for me, baby,” Tony said, kissing Peter, gently, sliding his finger along the slit on the tip of Peter’s cock. “It’s so perfect. So amazing. Just like you.”

The boy whimpered, his hips moving, pressing himself against touch of the man he loved so much.

“Please, daddy…”

“You need me, honey?” Tony whispered; his eyes locked on Peter’s. The boy’s pupils were wide with desire and need, and it was so hot. “You need daddy to take care of his baby?”

“I’m supposed to take care of you,” Peter told him, breathlessly.

“In a minute. Let me make my baby boy feel good, first,” Tony said, bringing him off his lap and standing him in front of him, between his knees. “Then you can do whatever you want to me the rest of the day. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Tony pulled Peter’s jeans off, and then managed to get his boxers down from around that achingly hard rod of flesh that was bobbing in front of him. After that it was a simple matter for him to lean forward and engulf the boy in his mouth, taking him deep and sucking on him, hungrily. His tongue flattened against the shaft as he pulled away, cheeks sucking in as he slurped the boy, eagerly, his fingers caressing Peter’s balls, now.

Peter groaned, his fingers going to Tony’s hair as he watched his cock slide in and out of the man’s mouth, a sight that never failed to excite him. He jerked his hips a little, automatically, and then tried to hold still, allowing Tony to do whatever he wanted to him, and trying to make the pleasure last as long as he could.

Tony had other ideas, though, and a hand slid around Peter, a finger slipping between his clenched ass cheeks to find his little hole. Tony breached his baby’s ass and Peter cried out and climaxed, his cock exploding and his rear tightening its hold on the digit Tony had put inside him.

“Daddy!”

The billionaire couldn’t reply, verbally, not with Peter’s cock feeding him a load of hot cum, but he tightened his lips around the head of Peter’s cock and drank him down, guzzling him enthusiastically until there was nothing left to swallow and Peter’s hands were braced on Tony’s shoulders as he caught his breath.

“You’re so delicious, baby,” Tony cooed, licking Peter’s shaft, tenderly, aware that it was sensitive, now more than ever. “So good. I could live off your cum, if you’d feed me it every day.”

Peter put his hand under Tony’s chin, tilting his head up and leaned down and kissed him, tasting himself on the older man’s lips.

“My turn.”

Tony nodded, feeling his cock twitch in excitement.

“Where do you want me, honey?”

In response, the boy simply went to his knees where he was, and reached for Tony’s jeans.

“Help me get you naked, daddy.”

Tony was more than willing, of course, and he had Peter move for a moment while he pulled his pants and boxers off, then carefully took the toy surrounding his aching cock off and put it to the side, as well. Then, he reclaimed his seat on the couch, and Peter reclaimed his spot between his legs and dipped his head, sliding the flat of his tongue along the head of Tony’s perfect cock.

“Yes… baby,” Tony murmured, fingers running through Peter’s curls, taking a handhold on them to move the boy’s head just a little so he could see that tongue in action. “You’re doing great.”

Peter played with Tony’s balls, slurping and licking just the head of Tony’s cock one moment, and then focusing on the shaft the next. Only when the older man’s hips were beginning to move, slightly, did he finally take him into his mouth, pushing himself down on the large cock and trying to draw him all the way into his throat.

Tony groaned when he realized that Peter had finally done it. He was hard-pressed not to ram himself even deeper when he felt Peter’s throat tighten around the head of his cock and the boy’s nose dig into the neatly trimmed pubic hair at the base.

_“Peter!”_

The boy pulled back, gagging, now, just a little, with a thick line of drool running from Tony’s cock onto his lower lip. He looked up at the billionaire, triumphantly, his eyes alight with happiness.

“I _did_ it.”

Tony smiled, pulling him up and kissing him, hungrily, so proud of him and happy for him that he had to hold him for a minute.

“Yes, you _did_. Good job.” An odd thing to celebrate, Tony knew, but something that Peter had been trying to do for so long that it was definitely an accomplishment. “Can you do it, again?” he asked, releasing him so he could sink back down between his legs.

Peter nodded, and bent his head, taking Tony back into his mouth, and the older man closed his eyes and leaned back.

This was going to be the best afternoon, ever.


	139. 139

_“Incoming call from Pepper Potts…”_

Tony looked down at his lap, feeling a surge of a million different emotions at the sight of Peter sleeping with his head in his lap, the very tip of Tony’s penis loosely held between his lips with a small puddle of drool soaking the older man’s thigh.

The boy had spent the afternoon lavishing attention on him – mostly on that now slightly aching member – and had eventually dozed off in between blowjobs, with his mouth still on him. Tony hadn’t minded; watching Peter sleep was one of his favorite pastimes. Watching Peter sleep with Tony’s cock in his mouth was even higher on the list.

“Connect call – _audio only_ ,” he replied. “Pepper?”

_“Busy?”_

“No. What’s up?”

_“The city of New York is trying to get in touch with you. They called_ here _, and since you aren’t available, the call was routed to me.”_

“Oh? Any idea why?”

_“The official I spoke with actually wanted to get in touch with_ Peter _.”_

Tony frowned, the hand that he had on the boy automatically tensing, imperceptibly.

“Any idea _why_?”

They couldn’t be worried about his status. If they wanted to make sure he was doing his schoolwork, all they would need to do is check the updates to the public records that FRIDAY sent up at the end of each day. Pepper interrupted before he could start a list of other things that they might be wanting him for – and he was surprised by the reason.

_“Because his quick thinking and bravery saved two lives in that taxi, and they want to make him an honorary fireman or something like that to reward him. They don’t have his personal cell number, but it’s a matter of public record that you guaranteed the court that he’d have safe living arrangements, so they know to come to you to find him.”_

“He’s not going to be a _fireman_.”

_“They don’t want him to be,”_ she said, and he could tell by the tone of voice that she was rolling her eyes – and he supposed rightfully so. There had probably been a certain amount of possessiveness in his automatic response to the idea of Peter being something other than an Avenger. _“The key word is_ honorary _. You’ve seen the ceremony. They just want to give him a plaque or something and tell him good job.”_

“Huh.” He looked down at the sleeping boy, feeling a smile forming on his lips, but resisting the urge to brush his cheek with his fingertips. “Well, I’ll see if he’s interested.”

_“You’ll be here, tomorrow?”_

“Yes. So will Peter. He has school in the morning, and he’ll be working with Bruce in the afternoon.”

_“Then_ you _can talk to whoever calls, tomorrow, to follow up with you.”_

He scowled at that, but knew she had better things to do than play press secretary for a sixteen-year-old. Of course, Tony did, also. But Peter was his responsibility, and not Pepper’s.

“Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”

_“I’ll see you tomorrow.”_

“Yes. Thank you.”

The call ended and Tony’s hand went down to his flaccid penis, gently pulling it out of Peter’s mouth and smiling when the boy’s lips sought it, automatically. He nudged the head against them, and Peter opened his mouth, and Tony slid the head back into place between his lips.

That was just fucking sexy.

Then his pretty brown eyes fluttered open and he looked up at the older man, smiling, slightly, when he saw he was watching him.

_That_ was even better, really, Tony decided.

Peter moved his head, a little, allowing his lips to release their prize.

“I fell asleep?”

“Yeah, honey,” Tony told him – and now he _did_ brush his fingers against his cheek. “But it’s okay. It’s a lazy afternoon; that’s the best way to spend it.”

With Tony’s cock in his mouth. Or his _ass_. Either was preferred, really.

He sat up and Tony pulled him into his arms, wanting to cuddle now that he was awake. Peter slid his leg over his lap to straddle him, reaching down and making sure that Tony’s cock wasn’t being pinched, and then just bringing it up against his own, his head going to Tony’s shoulder as he contentedly caressed the tow of them at the same time.

Of course, Tony had been sucked dry more than once, already, that afternoon, so he enjoyed the touch but wasn’t in any hurry to become aroused, and Tony had taken care of Peter, too, so the boy wasn’t needy, either.

“I’m going to roll my new character, tonight,” Peter told him, a smile in his voice.

“Yeah? What are you going to make?”

“A half-elf. Maybe a ranger.”

“An _evil_ ranger?”

Peter smiled.

“Chaotic good. That way he can be a bad boy, if I want him to do something off the wall, but still has his own set of standards.”

Tony smiled at that, and turned his head to kiss Peter, then ran his tongue lightly along his jaw.

“You like to play the bad boy, honey?”

“Sometimes. It’s not my usual alignment, but when it’s just pretend, yes…”

“That’s so _hot_.”

Peter chuckled.

“Think so?”

“M-hmm. Can your character wait, though? I want to take you out to dinner, tonight. To celebrate.”

“What are we celebrating?”

“The city wants to make you an honorary firemen – for what you did with the taxi.”

“I can’t be a fireman.”

“ _Honorary_ , honey. It’s just a title. And probably a nice plaque, or something. It’ll look good on a college application, though, so while you might be uncomfortable in the limelight that it’ll bring, it’s a good idea to accept the reward.”

“If you think I should.”

Peter trusted Tony’s judgement.

“I _do_. Do you want to go out for dinner, then?” he asked, brushing another kiss against his temple. “Or spend the night playing cock slut?”

He’d said it lovingly, only meaning to tease, but Peter was pressed right up against him, and he felt the boy’s body tense, immediately, at the words. Even worse, Peter pulled away from him, his leg coming back over Tony’s lap, to slide out of his arms and he reached for his jeans.

_“Honey…”_

“I… no. I’m…”

He was beyond hurt. Peter hadn’t actually _heard_ the phrase before, but he didn’t _need_ to have in order to know that it _couldn’t_ be a good thing. He knew what a _slut_ was, of course, and he assumed a cock slut was just a _male_ version of the same thing. It made him feel dirty, and cheap, and he was suddenly blinded by tears at the thought that Tony thought of him like that – even though it _was_ probably the case.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Tony told him, reaching out and taking hold of his arm, trying to bring him back into his embrace so he could reassure him and cuddle him. “I didn’t mean it the way that it _sounded_. It was supposed to be an endearment.”

“It’s okay,” Peter said, pulling away from Tony, carefully; not jerking free and maybe hurting him, just using enough strength to break the hold the older man had on his arm. He stood up, sliding into his jeans, suddenly needing to be covered and feeling extremely vulnerable. “I don’t… no. Really…”

He slunk away into his bedroom, closing the door behind him, leaving Tony cursing himself for being stupid enough to use a phrase that might have been fine with some bimbo that was just crushing on him, but definitely wasn’t something _Peter_ would have been able to handle. Not with his self esteem issues. 

“Damn it.”


	140. 140

Bob whined, softly, scratching at Peter’s door, obviously picking up on the sudden change in mood in the room immediately and wanting to be with the boy.

Tony pulled himself from his self-recrimination and slipped his pants on, hurriedly. He walked over to the door, reaching down and caressing the big mastiff’s ears.

“I’ve got him, buddy,” he murmured, softly. “This one’s on me.”

For sure.

He opened the door and was surprised to find the room empty. The comforter was gone from the bed, though, and Bob didn’t hesitate when he headed for the closed bathroom door, so Tony followed, once more pushing the dog aside so he could open this door, as well.

He found Peter in the bathtub. At least, he _assumed_ it was Peter, since the shaking form that was curled in the bath was completely covered by the blanket that he was wrapped in.

Tony knew from the long talks that he’d had with the boy – usually at night, holding him after a nightmare – that when he was younger, a panic attack or a particularly bad dream would send him under his bed or into the tub for a place to hide and wait out the fear. It was an indication to the billionaire just how upset Peter was by his thoughtless words, because there wasn’t room for the boy under his bed, and he’d gone to ground in the only other place that he felt safe.

Bob stuck his nose against the shaking form, having no trouble reaching over the edge of the bath since it only came to his chest. Tony was even more direct.

“Honey…”

He leaned over and pulled the boy, blanket and all, up to his feet, and then sidled himself into the tub, as well, bringing Peter back down on top of him, cradling him in his arms, his body along Tony's, coming down between his legs, but even cradled by the older man's knees and thighs.

Peter wasn’t a loud crier – maybe another holdover from his childhood when he’d try to avoid waking everyone after a nightmare. He didn’t make loud noises, or great, wracking sobs, but his entire body shook with each silent sob, and Tony drew his blanket covered head down to his shoulder, turning his head to tuck him under his chin and stroke him.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” he murmured, holding him, close, loving him hard. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re _beautiful_ , Peter. So _perfect_. So _wonderful_. Please… I’m sorry…”

Tony didn’t know how long he held him while he cried; it didn’t _matter_ , really, as long as Peter wasn’t struggling to get away from him – which he wasn’t. He trembled for a long time, occasionally jerking with a particularly hard sob, and finally stilled against Tony’s shoulder.

The litany of praise never slowed, though, even when Tony decided to try unwrapping him a little, thinking that he definitely needed to be able to breathe a little better than the blanket would allow. He pulled the comforter back from Peter’s face, crooning the entire time about how perfect he was, and how lucky Tony was to have him. When he eventually managed to get him untangled from the comforter, he found that Peter had also pulled on the black Avenger sweatshirt Natasha had given him and had drawn the hood up over his head for additional comfort.

Poor baby.

“Honey…” Tony cooed, when he finally managed to find the boy’s face. It was red, and splotched from crying; his cheeks and the hood of the sweatshirt smeared with tears and snot. Some people looked adorable, even when they cried, but Peter wasn’t one of them. He was still beautiful, though, as far as Tony was concerned. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing his lips against the corner of Peter’s mouth, pressing his cheek against his own. “Shh… baby… please don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Peter whispered, hoarsely, sniffing and trying to wipe his eyes on the shoulder of his sweatshirt. “I didn’t… I mean… I _know_ it’s wrong… but I never…”

He broke down, again, this time burying his face into Tony’s neck, turning toward him and seeking comfort.

“Shhh…” Tony shifted enough to run one hand through his baby’s hair, caressing him, and comforting. “I love you, Peter Parker. I’d never say something to hurt you. I love you. You’re so perfect. So strong, and brave, and wonderful.”

He trembled in Tony’s embrace, once more gaining a semblance of control over the tears.

“Yeah?” he sniffed, hiccupping and choking on another sob.

“Yes. Of course.” Tony rocked him as well as he could considering their confined position. “I didn’t mean it to be hurtful, my love. I was teasing you. You’re so amazing, honey.”

“I don’t want… I mean… I guess I am a... a… what you _said_ …” he sniffed, again, woefully.

“No. Not in a bad way, you aren’t,” Tony assured him, peppering his ear and temple with gentle kisses. “There’s nothing _wrong_ with enjoying what we were doing, honey. I enjoy having you in my mouth as often as possible, so that makes _me_ one, you know…”

“I like it…”

“I know, baby. I’m glad you do. I’m sorry I made you cry. I’d never do that on purpose.”

Peter nodded, and trembled.

“I’m sorry I got so upset.”

“Poor baby…” Tony kissed his ear, again, squeezing him, tightly, and then keeping his arms around him, making sure that he felt protected and loved and wanted – even without the blanket or hood on. “Why did it upset you so much, though, honey? You know I love you. Right?”

He needed to know, to make sure he didn’t trigger him, again, with some other thoughtless word – although he’d _never_ call his baby a cock slut, again, for certain.

“I… it made me think I was bad…”

“You’re not bad. You’re amazing.”

“We have to hide what we do,” Peter whispered. “It’s not…” he trailed off, uncertain of what to say, and how to say it.

“Oh.” Tony cuddled him, once more pressing his lips against Peter’s curls, feeling a lot of heat coming from the boy in his arms. Not surprisingly, considering the blanket and the sweatshirt _and_ being held like he was. Never mind the heat generated by his crying jag. “We have to keep it a secret because _society_ says that there has to be a number. That you aren’t intelligent enough, or mature enough, to know who you love until you’re a certain age. That might be true for a lot of people, but not for everyone. Not for _you_. You’re amazing, honey. I love you. If I _could_ , I’d tell _everyone_ how much I love you. How amazing you are. How pretty you are.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. You’re so incredible, honey. So _good_. Saving strangers on the street without even stopping to think that you might get hurt, too. Saving Bob, here, from being stuck in the rescue place, waiting to find someone who could love him, despite how big and scary looking he is… Saving _me_.”

“You?”

Tony chuckled, kissing him, again.

“Of course. You’re so good for me. It took me a while to realize it – _of course_ – but I _need_ you, baby. I need your strength to lean on, and your common sense to keep me grounded.”

“You do?”

“Definitely.”

Peter sniffed, again.

“I love you, Tony…”

“Oh, honey. I love you, too.” He tilted his head up so he could kiss his lips, gently, and then tucked him back under his chin and continued threading his fingers through his hair, not even considering suggesting that they get out of the tub. If that was where Peter needed to be, just then, then that was where they would be. “Peter Parker… honorary fireman and the love of my life. Who’d _ever_ guess it?”

“ _Natasha_.”

That made them both laugh, and Tony felt his heart flutter in happiness at the sound.

“She doesn’t know about the _fireman_ part, though. That will be fun to tell her. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”


	141. 141

They stayed in the tub for a while longer, but Peter knew that it couldn’t be that comfortable for Tony to have him in his arms like he was. With _his_ arms swaddled in the blanket, Tony was taking all of Peter’s weight. Not to mention Peter was nice and warm, but Tony was probably _hot_ , being covered like he was by Peter’s blanketed form.

When he shifted, though, to get up, he was chagrined to find that he was tangled so badly that Tony actually ended up needing to pretty much bench press him out of the tub to get him free, and only then was he able to sluff the blanket and reach a hand down to help the billionaire out of the bath tub, as well.

“I’m sorry I freaked out on you like that,” he said.

_Again_.

“I’m sorry I called you a name so awful that you _had_ to,” Tony replied, sliding his arms around him and slipping his hands under the sweatshirt. “I’ll never do it, again, honey.”

“Okay.”

Tony was willing to hold him as long as he wanted to be held, and Peter appreciated it. The older man smiled down at him, though, and brushed his thumb against Peter’s cheek, which was smeared with dried tears and snot.

“Let’s wash your face, baby,” he murmured, leading the boy over to the sink and turning on the water. He picked Peter up and settled him onto the counter, easily, and pulled his sweatshirt off before reaching for a washcloth. “You’re so pretty, Peter,” he murmured while wetting the cloth with cool water.

Peter smiled, blushing at the compliment, even though his eyelashes felt gummy and were sticking together from dried tears.

“Thank you, daddy.”

Tony hid his sigh of relief at hearing the word coming from the boy’s lips. He hadn’t lost him, after all.

“My _baby_ …” He had Peter close his eyes and he washed his face, scrubbing it firmly to clear the porcelain skin of any imperfection and then softly kissing him as he tossed the washcloth in the laundry hamper. Peter’s stomach growled at that moment, and they both smiled – even as the boy blushed, slightly. “Daddy’s boy needs dinner.”

“Yes.”

He parted Peter’s knees and pressed himself against him, arms coming around him, again, looking at his reflection in the mirror as he slid his fingers along the boy’s back. He rested his chin on the top of Peter’s head, bringing the boy’s cheek against his chest, next to the arc reactor.

“Do you mind if we don’t go out, honey?” he asked. “We can celebrate, tomorrow.”

He was still a little shaky, unbelievably. Him. _Ironman_. Gets shot out of the sky? No problem. Makes his baby cry? Almost in tears, himself.

“Whatever you want to do, daddy,” Peter mumbled against his bare skin. Then the boy pressed his lips, tenderly, against Tony’s chest. “I just want to be with you.”

“We’ll make something easy, then,” he decided, forcing himself to pull away from Peter, although he did smile down at him, lovingly. “How about French toast?”

Peter smiled.

“Yes.” He looked at Bob, who had stayed in the bathroom with them the entire time they’d been in the tub – although the boy hadn’t really been aware of him being there until Tony had mentioned him. The mastiff had dozed off near the shower until the two had started moving around, again. Now he was lazing on the cool floor, watching them. “I’ll go walk Bob.”

“I _could_ ,” Tony offered. “If you’re not feeling up to it.”

“No, I’m okay, daddy.”

“Alright.” He kept Peter in place on the counter with a hand on his thigh while he reached for the discarded sweatshirt and pulled it over the boy’s head, bringing his arms through it and then putting the hood up and kissing him, again, simply to reassure himself that he _could_. “Don’t be gone too long.”

“I won’t.”

Peter hopped off the counter and called Bob, who heaved himself to his feet and followed him out.

Tony picked up the comforter and carried it back to Peter’s bed, and then went out into the living room in time to see Peter harness Bob and tuck his phone into his pocket.

“I’ll start dinner.”

“Okay.”

>>><<<>><>>< 

Peter and Bob had barely cleared the building when the boy suddenly found himself stopped by a man in a suit. Not a superbly tailored suit like Tony might wear, but a business suit, nonetheless. The man; tall, thin and wearing glasses, was leaning against a building a few doors down, but stood up when he noticed Peter – or maybe when he saw Bob – and stepped in front of them when they would have walked by.

Bob – already overly sensitive toward Peter’s feelings that day – made a low growl deep in his chest and stepped up, putting his considerable bulk between Peter and the stranger, who took a step back at the obvious warning.

“Are you Peter Parker?”

The boy hesitated, but nodded.

“Yes.”

“My name is Brett Smith. I work for the city. In the mayor's office.”

“Oh.”

Which meant nothing to Peter, really.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your walk, but my boss wanted me to try and obtain contact with you.”

“About what?”

“We were trying to get in touch with you to discuss a ceremony to make you an honorary fireman – in connection with the incident with the taxicab that happened – right down the street from here.”

“Oh.” He hesitated, tapping his watch. He wasn’t _afraid_ , or anything, but he didn’t know what to say – and didn’t want to agree to something without knowing what he was agreeing to. “I don’t… maybe you could talk to _Tony_.”

The man nodded.

“We tried to get in touch with him, today. We were routed to an underling, who told us we would need to wait until tomorrow to talk to him.”

“He’ll be in the tower, tomorrow.”

“I was kind of hoping I could get some groundwork started, _today_ , though. My boss is pretty eager to have something to tell the mayor – and the Fire chief.”

Peter’s phone rang, then, and he pulled it out of pocket, relieved to see Tony on the caller ID. He held it up, since it was a facetime call.

_“Peter? What’s going on?”_

The man smiled, realizing what had happened and who was on the phone.

“A guy stopped me and Bob,” he said. “He says he’s with the city.”

_“He’s still there?”_

“Yes.”

“Brett Smith, Mr. Stark,” the man said, speaking up. “I’m with the mayor’s office.”

_“Mr. Smith, do you like your job?”_

“Yes. Of course.”

_“Then, if you want to keep it, I suggest you don’t ambush minors when a phone call will work just as well.”_

It was the man’s turn to hesitate, and he looked at Peter and then at the phone.

“I tried to call, today. I spoke to an underling. _Ms. Potts._ She-“

_“Told you that I’d be in the office tomorrow and could be contacted, then,”_ Tony interrupted. “ _The underling you spoke with is my #2 in command at Stark Industries. Did you leave a number with her?”_

“Yes.”

_“Then I will call you, tomorrow, at my leisure. I’d appreciate it if you allowed Peter and Bob to finish their walk so that our evening isn’t disrupted any longer. We have D &D characters to roll out and it takes a while.”_

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

_“Peter? Are you alright?”_ Tony asked.

“I’m _fine_.” He felt bad for getting Mr. Smith yelled at, really, and was quick to add. “He didn’t do anything, Tony. He was being nice to me.”

_“Good. I’m glad to hear that. Finish your walk, okay?”_

“Yeah.”

_“And call me if you need anything.”_

“Okay.”

The phone call ended, and Smith looked at Peter.

“Well. I’ll call him tomorrow, then.”

Peter nodded.

“Are you guys _really_ going to make me an honorary fireman?”

The man nodded, too.

“Fireman or _police officer_. Whichever you prefer. What you did was really brave. I understand you were injured…”

“Yeah. But not _much_.”

“Well, I’ll let you finish your walk so Mr. Stark doesn’t worry about you. Think about which you’d prefer, alright? You can let us know.”

“Fireman.”

Smith smiled, again.

“Fireman, it is. Have a good night.”

He turned and walked across the street, and Peter watched him until he was lost in the foot traffic, then he and Bob continued their walk. Peter hadn’t missed Tony stating that they had character to roll. He wondered if that meant he was thinking about playing D&D, too.


	142. 142

Tony was standing at the island when Peter and Bob walked out of the elevator. The boy took off the dog’s harness and then his shoes and walked over, barefoot, to see what he was doing, while the dog went to make sure his food dish hadn’t vanished while they were gone.

“Are you alright?” Tony asked Peter, looking him over, carefully, for any sign of distress.

He seemed fine.

“Yes. I’m… I probably _overreacted_ , asking FRIDAY to contact you like that. He didn’t say anything wrong, or scary, or even get too close to me. I just wasn’t-“

“You did exactly right,” Tony assured him, holding up a hand to stop him. “I think I’ll start walking Bob with you when you go out.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I know. But he’s _our_ dog, so I should get to watch him poop in the rain, too, right?”

Peter smiled at that, and shrugged.

“If you want.”

The other option would be to have one of the apartment building’s paid security people follow the boy when he went out, just to make sure no one was fucking with him. Which might end up being something he did, on occasion. He’d see.

“I do. Ready to eat?”

“Yes.”

As Tony pulled out the grill and everything needed to make French toast and some sausages, he made casual conversation with Peter, mostly about what the man from the mayor’s office had said to him, trying to get an idea if there was any underlying issues caused by him ambushing Peter (which sounded extreme, maybe, but it was how it looked to the billionaire). As near as he could tell, though, the only one who had made the boy cry that day was him.

“Syrup?” he asked as the first few slices of French toast came off the grill and onto the plates. “Or blueberries and whipped cream?”

“Syrup.”

Peter set the table for the two of them, and they sat down together to eat, the conversation slowing as the boy’s appetite took over and he wolfed down more than one helping of both sausages and French toast. Tony watched, amused, and wondered – privately – if he kept making them, how many Peter would eat before he simply popped a button on his jeans. He didn’t put it to the test, even though he was almost tempted to do just that.

Sometimes being inquisitive didn’t mean that you should act on it, after all.

“More?” He asked, as Peter finished off the last of the sausages with a look that could only be called satisfied.

“No. Thank you. It was _good_.”

Tony had already finished, and had just been sipping coffee while watching his baby eat, so Peter gathered up the dishes to start getting them loaded into the dishwasher.

“I’m thinking about rolling a character,” Tony told him, watching him. Even doing something as mundane as rinsing dishes and putting them in the machine, Peter was beautiful. Tony was still reeling from how badly he’d fucked up, earlier, and was thinking that one way to make up for it might to be joining the D&D game with the boy and Ned. “Would you mind?”

Peter’s beautiful eyes lit up and he smiled, answering before he even opened his mouth.

“I think it’d be great. What kind?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve played,” Tony admitted. “I’ll have to do a little research.”

“I picked up all the 5th edition books, which is what Ned said they’re playing campaigns with,” Peter told him, well aware that Tony had been busy talking to Ned and his parents while Peter had been choosing his supplies. “There are plenty of character sheets.”

Of course, Tony had FRIDAY to hep him research his character and what he wanted to do. He didn’t _say_ that, though – and Peter probably was aware that the AI could offer up anything that he needed to make his newbie character. He didn’t mention it because it would be more fun for Peter if he was the one to help him roll his character – and it would probably be more fun for _Tony_ , too.

“When you’re done we’ll look and see what my options are.”

>>><><><>< 

“Are you _sure_ you want to play a paladin?”

Tony chuckled at the uncertainty in Peter’s voice and moved all of their supplies to the coffee table, including the books that they’d been going through for reference.

“I don’t strike you as _lawful good_?”

The boy climbed into his lap, and straddled him, smiling.

“Well… not really. I mean, there’s a lot of rules to it.”

Peter knew that Tony wasn't exactly a fan of following the rules.

“Yeah.” Tony leaned back into the leather, taking Peter with him and drawing the boy’s head to his shoulder. “But they’re fun to play, too. _And_ I get to wrap myself in sanctimonious rhetoric this way. Besides, I have an image to keep up. _Superheroes_ aren't lawful evil. Even in play."

Which made Peter smile.

“What do you want to do, now?” he asked.

“Whatever you _want_ , honey,” Tony told him, sincerely.  “We could watch a movie. Or play a game. Or, if you need me to, I can just hold onto you like we are, right now.”

“We could watch a movie _and_ you could hold me…”

“True.” He pressed a kiss against the boy’s hair. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed and meet me back here when you’re done? We’re not going anywhere else, tonight.”

“Okay.”

Peter cleared Tony’s lap and went into his room, while the billionaire got to his feet, picking up all of their D&D things and putting them into folders for easy access later. Then he went and got ready for bed, too. It was still a little early, but he knew from experience that Peter was going to be tired from his emotional breakdown, once the sugar from all the French toast he’d eaten for dinner finally cleared his system.

He probably wasn’t going to want to do more than watch TV and cuddle, really. And that was fine with Tony, who was still feeling a little uncertain himself, and didn’t want to press anything more onto him than he felt up to doing.

Calling him a cock slut, apologizing and then nudging his lips with his penis wasn’t something even Tony was willing to do. Not to _Peter_ , especially. He’d go slow and let his baby decide what – if anything – they were going to do that evening.

By the time Tony had brushed his teeth, washed his face and changed into a pair of pajama bottoms, Peter was back in the living room, sitting on the couch, wearing sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt, rather than a sweatshirt. He smiled when the billionaire approached, and then patted his lap in the same motion that Tony used when inviting the boy to cuddle.

With a grin, Tony took him up on the invitation, and he climbed into Peter’s lap, straddling the slight boy, and wriggling just a little to get himself into a position that was similar to the one Peter favored so much.

“Hi daddy,” Peter said, his voice amused as his arms went around Tony’s bare torso.

“Hi, honey. Am I squishing you?”

“A little. It feels good, though. I like having you so close to me.”

Tony snorted, and pressed his nose against Peter’s neck, right under his jaw, but the position was awkward for him and he couldn’t relax, feeling that he was suffocating Peter.

“Trade me places, baby. I can’t hold you, this way.”

Peter loosened his hold, giving Tony the chance to move off of him, and then got up. He waited for the billionaire to sit down and then took his rightful spot in his lap, sighing as his cheek went to Tony’s shoulder. Now it was his nose that found the tender skin under Tony’s jaw, and he kissed him, softly.

“Daddy…”

It was a pleased noise, and it made Tony hug him that much closer.

“Do you want anything, honey?” he asked. “Is there something daddy can do for you?”

“Just hold me?”

“Of course,” Tony told him, kissing his hair. “That’s my favorite thing to do.”

He pulled a blanket over Peter’s shoulders, and then turned on the TV, starting a random movie playing before he put his arms around him.

To his delight, Peter’s hand slid down between them, ending up resting lightly on Tony’s lap. He didn’t grope him; his hand was barely moving, almost idly touching him, but that was still encouraging, and the older man kissed Peter, again, and then settled in to watch the movie.

Not surprisingly, Peter fell asleep long before it was over.


	143. 143

“So he’s going to be given an award?”

“Sounds like it,” Tony said, nodding. “I’ll make this Smith character wait until after lunch and then I’ll give him a call while Peter’s working with Bruce.”

Pepper smiled.

“Peter must be excited.”

“He _is_. Yes.” Stark smirked. “But then, he’s excited to be working with _Bruce_ , so what does he know?”

She wasn’t fooled for a minute.

“He’s doing schoolwork?”

“In my office, yes.”

_They_ were in _Pepper’s_ , where Tony was telling her about the mayor’s office coming to look for Peter the evening before. She’d been appalled, which made him feel better about being a dick to the guy over the phone and justified when he’d gone for the morning walk with Peter and Bob – even though nothing interesting had happened, and no one was waiting to ambush them.

They’d gone to bed the night before once the movie was over. More asleep than awake, Peter had simply stripped out of his clothing and renewed his cuddling with Tony, only now they were in bed. Always careful with the boy, Tony was now treating him like glass, and allowing him to set the pace. When Peter had gone back to sleep almost immediately, Tony had simply slid his hand along the boy’s hip, holding him closely, and had gone to sleep, as well.

They’d woken before Bob, and Peter had been amorous; hands sliding languidly along Tony’s body, morning wood already throbbing against his thigh. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Tony had shifted enough to take Peter into his mouth and suck him to completion and had then played with his ass until the boy was pleading for him to be inside him.

Tony had rolled him onto his belly, parted his thighs and had taken him, slowly and thoroughly, until they were both drained.

Then he’d held his baby in his arms, praising him and caressing him, until Bob had made an appearance, demanding a morning walk. They’d both dressed and gone out, and when they’d returned, they showered, had breakfast and had been ready to go when Happy had arrived to collect them.

“What’s going to happen with this Tate person?” she asked, curiously.

That was a story she’d heard Monday – and had been appalled. And outraged.

Tony scowled.

“ _Officially_? Nothing. Not unless we want to drag Peter through it all – and I don’t want to do that to him. Besides, even if we _did_ , nothing technically _happened_ , so the worst that would happen is that he’d get a slap on the hand.”

“And unofficially?”

“His grandmother loves Peter and is just as furious about what happened as if he were one of her grandkids – and is mortified that it was her own flesh and blood that tried something like that. She’s going to make sure to put the fear of God into him and has already pulled all financial endowments – including his car and anything else she could think of.”

“You’re satisfied with that?”

He shrugged.

“It’s a good start." Time t change the subject, before he allowed himself to get worked up about the whole thing all over, again. "On a much more cheerful note, do _not_ go home for the night until you have a chance to see him, because he brought you back some souvenirs from our trip to Dallas and wants to give them to you, personally.”

Pepper smiled.

“He _did_?”

“Yes. And he picked them out on his own, so if you hate them, hide that look you get until _after_ he’s gone.”

“I’ll do my best.”

She looked pleased, though, and that made Tony smile, too. He looked at his watch.

“Need me for anything?”

“No. Are you going to your work room?”

“Not, yet. It’s almost recess. _Then_ I’ll go to my work room.”

She waved him out of her office, already turning her display on.

“Have fun.”

He smirked, and headed for the door.

>>>>><<><><<<> 

Peter was still working on schoolwork when Tony entered his office. He locked the door behind him, and wandered over to the smaller desk in the corner, feeling his lips widen in a smile when the boy looked up at his arrival.

“How’s it going, honey?” he asked, moving to stand behind him and brushing a kiss against his temple while still looking at the display to see what he was working on.

“Good, daddy,” Peter replied. “It’s just math.”

_Just math_. Just insanely complicated math that Peter handled like it was the times table, because his baby was a fucking _genius_.

“Almost done?”

“Last problem, now.”

“Is he getting them right, FRIDAY?”

_“Yes. He missed the first one, because he didn’t read the instructions and show his work. All others have been correct.”_

Peter rolled his eyes.

“I showed my work. Just not the proof.”

“Finish up, honey.”

Tony went over and sat on the edge of his desk, admiring the view of the two things that excited him most; Peter and technology. He didn’t want to distract him, so he watched Bob – who was sleeping in his bed against the wall and drooling a little. Not for long, though, because a few minutes later Peter turned off the display with a sigh.

“I’m done.”

“Did you show your work?”

“Yes.”

“You’re _so_ smart.”

Peter smiled, coming out from behind the desk to move into Tony’s arms, nudging his knees apart to give himself room.

“Can we have recess, daddy?” he asked. “Or are you busy?”

“No,” Tony hugged him, tucking him under his chin. “I think recess is a good idea. What do you have in mind, honey? Can you _tell_ me? My brave, beautiful boy.”

He trembled with happiness, but hesitated, uncertain. Not because he didn’t know what he _wanted_ , because he _did_. He just wasn’t sure that Tony was interested in it, any longer. Peter’s hand went down to Tony’s lap, and he ran his fingers along the soft swelling that he found under the expensive fabric of his slacks.

“Can I…?”

He buried his face in Tony's neck, just above his shirt.

“ _Say_ it, honey,” Tony crooned, practically holding his breath. “ _Please_ , brave boy.”

“I want to suck on you,” Peter said, softly, trembling just a little, but now with a little trepidation. He didn’t _really_ think Tony would call him that name, again, but the fear was there, and he wasn’t hiding it very well. “Please…?”

“Oh, _Peter_ ,” Tony hugged him tightly, and the boy was surprised that the older man was shaking, too. “I love you so much." He drew Peter’s hand from his groin up to his lips where he kissed the fingers, tenderly. “Please suck on me, honey.”

Peter pulled back, and would have gone to his knees there, but Tony caught him and drew him over to the sofa, instead. The billionaire sat down opening his pants and pulling his cock out while Peter settled between his knees, looking up at him for just a moment, and the reaching for Tony’s already hard cock. He licked his lips and then lowered his head, tongue lapping at the shaft and underside of Tony’s sensitive cock.

“Yes, baby,” Tony murmured, his fingers carefully brushing the boy’s hair, forcing himself not to press him down on him so Peter could take his time. “Daddy loves his baby. You’re so wonderful, honey. So amazing.”

Peter smiled at the praise and took Tony into his mouth, completely, and then the older man groaned when he didn’t stop and the head of his cock went into the back of Peter’s throat, sliding down until Peter had him swallowed, completely. The boy could only hold him there for a moment and he gagged coming back up, but he didn’t hesitate to slurp the drool off Tony’s shaft and balls and then turn his attention back to trying to see how long he could deepthroat him.

“So beautiful…” Tony moaned. “Don’t stop, lovey. Please.”

Peter didn’t. He slurped and sucked and licked – even tried nibbling, carefully, and all the while his hand was either stroking whatever portion of Tony’s shaft wasn’t in his mouth at the time, or he was fondling his balls. Stark gave a soft groan when he felt his climax washing over him, the only warning Peter had before the older man’s cock tensed and cum was suddenly filling his mouth.

He swallowed it down, licking, sucking and searching for more, and then placed a kiss against the base of Tony’s still damp cock before looking up at him.

“I’m getting better at it,” he told Tony – unnecessarily.

The billionaire chuckled and pulled him into his lap.

“You’re incredible, honey. Just fucking the best.”


	144. 144

“So why did you choose fireman over police officer?” Bruce asked Peter that afternoon while they were working in his lab.

Peter smiled, reaching for a vial. He was still excited about the call from the mayor’s office and the conversation Tony had told him about having with Mr. Smith while Peter had been finishing his schoolwork that morning.

“Because firemen have those cool hats. And the outfit is a lot more interesting. Besides, the guy that pulled me away from the explosion was a police officer – and they’re giving him some kind of recognition thing, too. I don’t want to overshadow that.”

“That makes sense.” He took the vial from Peter. “When is all this going to happen?”

“They’re still getting that set up. As long as it isn’t this Thursday evening, I don’t care, really.”

“What happens this Thursday evening?” Banner asked, curiously.

“I’m playing D&D with a guy I met. His mom and dad own the comic book store down the street from Tony’s apartment. Tony might play, too.”

“Really? That would be fun.”

“I know, right?”

They discussed D&D the rest of the afternoon, off and on. Not surprisingly, Bruce was nerd enough to know everything about the game, and had been keeping up with any changes to it that may have come with previous editions being added to over the years since the last time that he’d actually played – which had been in college, he told Peter.

When Tony and Bob came to collect Peter toward the end of their work day, Peter had a few revisions that he was planning on making on his character based on some of the information that Bruce had shared with him, and had once more had a very good day.

“Ready to go?” Tony asked, once he’d said hello to Bruce.

“Yes.”

“How do you feel?” the billionaire asked as they walked out of the lab and toward the elevators. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yes. How was yours?”

“Spent the afternoon in my workroom, finishing your suit.”

Peter’s eyes lit up, excitedly, just as Tony had known they would. Or hoped that they would, anyway. He loved seeing the boy excited like that.

“You did?”

“Well, _mostly_ ,” Tony temporized. “We’ll want you to try it on, of course, and check the fit.”

“Can we do that tonight?”

“If you’d like.” He’d expected Peter to want to. “We’ll stop at me office. I’ll pick up the suit and a few things to take home with us, while you give Ms. Potts her souvenirs. I happen to know that she is purposely making her day a little longer to allow you the chance to do that, so don’t dawdle. Her days are long enough, already.”

Peter nodded.

“She’s pretty good at her job, isn’t she?”

“She’s _great_ at it,” he assured Peter. “This place would crash and burn without her running it.”

“So, she’s really the reason the Avengers can exist, then.”

“How do you figure that?” Tony asked him.

“Well, she does all the work, here, that allows you time to work on your suits and to be Ironman, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you put a lot of money into funding the R&D for the cool tech the Avengers use.”

“True.”

Peter shrugged.

“They’d exist, I guess, but they wouldn’t be as efficient or as cool without all the tech.”

“Besides, then they’d would rely on government funding – which would put us under an umbrella for ways and means…” he said this more to himself than to Peter, but the boy knew what he was referring to, so he nodded.

“Probably.”

Huh. How about that? I probably owe her a raise, then.”

The boy smiled at that as they got out of the elevator and walked to Tony’s office.

“A big one.”

The walk to Tony’s office didn’t take long and the boy gathered up the souvenirs while Tony reached for a locking metal-sided briefcase to carry Peter’s suit home in.

“I’ll meet you back here,” he told Peter.

“Okay.”

Peter made his way to Pepper’s office which was just down the well-lit and tastefully decorated hall. He knocked politely on the door and waited to hear Pepper tell him to come in. She was sitting at her desk when he did and she smiled at him, standing up to welcome him like she might for an important executive visitor. Which made him smile, cheerfully.

“Peter. I hear you’re going to be a fireman.”

“Just for a day,” he said, nodding, as he handed her first a white leather cowboy hat that was made lower than his own, designed to make less of a profile – which Natasha assured him Pepper would like more than the ten-gallon hat style that he’d been looking at. The assassin, of course, was right, because Pepper smiled, clearly pleased – and not even pretending just to be polite, Peter thought. “They don’t really need to,” he added, feeling happy at her reaction to the present. “I didn’t do that much, really, but it’s exciting – and Tony says that once official people get their minds made up about something like this, it’s just easier to go along with it.”

“He’s right, of course,” Pepper told him, putting the hat on and looking at the window behind her, which gave her a reflection to see how it looked. “This is great, Peter. Thank you so much for thinking of me.”

He blushed, pleased.

“You’re welcome. It’s not even close to being enough to thank you for helping me with getting emancipated and everything, but I thought you’d like something from Dallas. Everyone else did.”

“I love it.”

She hugged him, and he handed her the small bag that held the rest of the items that he’d brought for her. Nothing fancy like the hat; a shot glass with the state of Texas on it, a stuffed steer and a t-shirt that said her friend went to Texas and all she got was a t-shirt. Pepper loved it all, though, and was vocal about it.

Which made Peter feel good.

“I have to go,” he said, remembering what Tony had told him about her day being a long one.

He didn’t want to make it any longer by making her hang out with him, after all.

“Are you two going to go celebrate your award?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.” He definitely couldn’t tell her they were going to go try on his new superhero outfit, could he? “Maybe.”

“Well, have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow – and thank you again for thinking of me.”

“You’re welcome.”

He left the office – which was almost as nice as Tony’s, really, and saw the billionaire waiting in the hall. He had the briefcase in one hand and Bob’s leash in the other.

“Well? Did she like the hat?” Tony asked as he handed Bob’s leash to Peter.

“She _said_ she did, yeah.”

“Good. Happy’s waiting for us.” They started once more toward the door. “Do you want to go out to eat, tonight?”

“Can we still try on the suit?”

“Of course.”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll take Bob for his walk, first,” Tony said, his hand sliding to the small of Peter’s back during the elevator ride. “Then we’ll go celebrate you becoming an honorary fireman. We can probably trust our dog not to eat the coffee table while we’re gone, I think. Yeah?”

“He hasn’t chewed anything up, yet.”

Of course, he was pretty lazy, and destruction required a little bit more ambition than the mastiff actually had.

“That’s my reasoning, too.” Really, even if he _did_ , they didn’t leave anything out that the dog could get into and potentially hurt himself, so it wasn’t a big deal – and they would know not to do it, again. “How about Italian?”

A perfect choice, given Peter’s fondness for noodles and sauce.

“Please.”

They left the elevator and headed for the lobby – and the waiting limo – and Peter couldn’t help but grin.

It was going to be a great night.


	145. 145

As it turned out, they didn’t need to find out if Bob was really hiding a destructive tendency under all that laziness. While they were out walking the mastiff, they’d found Monica doing the same with Boomer, and had walked with her, enjoying her company. Peter took Boomer’s leash from her, telling her that he wanted to walk both dogs. He ended up walking a little ahead of the others, because Boomer was setting the pace.

Tony told her about the award, and that they were going out to eat that evening, and Monica asked if they wanted her to dog sit Bob that evening.

“I’m going to bed early, though,” she told Tony as they watched a couple of other pedestrians give the boy and his two companions a wide berth on the sidewalk. Which made Tony think that while Bob was big, Boomer was much more ferocious-looking. Which worked well for Monica’s safety – and when winter came, and Peter was walking both dogs, maybe Tony would feel a little more confident about allowing Peter out by himself. “So don’t come get him until morning.”

“Will do, and thank you.”

When the walk was over, they parted ways at the lobby and Tony and Peter headed for his car.

“Anything else you want to do while we’re out, honey?” Tony asked as they buckled in.

“Not tonight, daddy,” Peter told him. If not for the fact that Tony wanted to celebrate the award, Peter would have been just fine with them eating dinner at home. He was excited to see the suit and try it on. And maybe test it out. “Thank you.”

The older man patted Peter’s knee and then put the car in gear.

>>><<><>> 

Dinner was at an upscale restaurant that Tony had been to many times. The food was amazing, the service first class and it offered private rooms, which they took advantage of. Not so private as home, of course, so there weren’t any public displays of affection other than the looks that Tony gave his baby when Peter carefully perused the menu, his tongue between his teeth one minute and then his lower lip in the same position the next.

God he was delicious.

They had pasta. Tony opted for chicken with his and Peter had lasagna. As they ate, they discussed his schooling, and Tony’s new suit, but they didn’t mention Peter’s suit, even though the billionaire had done a quick scan with his glasses and had confirmed there was no video or audio recording in the room.

Not that he had anticipated that; it was more of a habit than anything, really.

“They’re sending me the rest of the specs on their nanite tech,” Tony said as Peter finished eating first. He handed the boy the dessert menu, hoping to get a repeat of the tongue thing while he read it. “I think I’ve got the design that I want to use pretty much laid out. Sometime this week I’d like you to take a look at it, and tell me what you think.”

Peter’s eyes grew wide and excited.

“Really?”

“Of course. It’s never a bad idea to get an outside opinion, you know,” he said, smiling. “It just hasn’t really been an option for me before now. Not with someone who was as tech-minded as I am, anyway. Bruce and Rhodey are both geniuses in their own rights, but not in my field. _You_ most definitely are.”

That had made Peter happy, Tony could see. The boy’s porcelain cheeks reddened, and his smile was sweetly pleased even as he ducked his head, almost embarrassed, but most certainly loving the praise as much – if not more – than anything else Tony had ever said to him.

A reminder to the man to heap the praises on the boy even when they weren’t cuddling.

“That’d be great.”

“Good.”

They ordered dessert, but Tony was looking forward to seeing how the new suit looked on Peter, and he didn’t eat most of his own. Instead watching as Peter enjoyed a chocolate cream pie with almost indecent expressions on his face.

“Do you want another slice?” Tony asked – a little hopefully, despite being ready to go.

“No. Thank you. This was nice.”

“You’re so welcome. Ready to go see how I did with a needle and thread?”

“Yes.”

He was, too, Tony could see. But that wasn’t surprising. Besides, Tony was, also.

He didn’t get a check; he had a running tab with most restaurants that he frequented so they knew to send the bill to Stark Industries.  So when they were done, Tony dropped a generous tip on the table and they left.

>>>>><<><><

“Ready for the final unveiling?” Tony asked, dramatically.

Peter nodded, practically wriggling with excitement, now.

“Yes.”

They were in Tony’s bedroom, with the briefcase on the billionaire’s bed and the two of them standing beside it.

“Strip down to your boxers, honey,” Tony ordered.

Peter did as he was told, while Tony palmed the scanner on the briefcase and then pulled out a bundle of blue and red fabric, handing the first piece over once the boy was finished undressing. It was the top of the suit and Tony watched as Peter pulled it easily over his head, the long sleeves clinging snugly to Peter’s arms and the rest fitting his upper body like a glove.

“How does that feel?”

Peter swung his arms, experimentally, and grinned.

“It’s tight, but I can’t really even tell.”

“Free range of movement?”

“Yeah. It’s amazing.”

“Pants, next, then,” Toy ordered, handing them over. “I put a few extra layers in the groin area,” he explained as Peter put them on. “I don’t want everyone checking out your package – that’s only for me, but let me know if it’s too bunchy, okay?”

The pants fit as well as the shirt, and matched up seamlessly with it, so it looked like one piece when it was on. Peter sat down on the bed to put on the lightweight boots and then stood up, grinning hugely at Tony, who slid his hands along the outfit – and not just to cop a feel, for a change.

“It looks pretty good.”

“It’s amazing,” Peter said, again, looking down at himself, and running his hands along his chest. “Wow.”

“Can you move in it, though, is the question,” Tony said, turning him around to see how it looked from the back. He had to admit it was impressive, and he thought the stylized spider design was a nice touch. “Put your mask on and then let’s walk around the apartment a bit, to settle it in.”

The boy did as he was told, and ignored Tony’s amused snicker when he put the mask on backwards his first try. He was too excited to be annoyed – and besides, it probably _did_ look funny. A quick walk around the apartment showed that the material was just as flexible as they could have hoped for. Tony stopped Peter by the bed, again, and had the boy hold still while he once more ran his hands along the fabric, asking questions with all the intensity that he had when working with his own suits.

“How does it feel? No pinching? Is it too tight? Lift your arms. Now squat down. Now jump.”

For almost half an hour he ran Peter through a series of range of motion tests and then reached into his pocket and pulled out the webshooters, handing them over as well. Peter put them on, and looked up at Tony. Even with the mask on the billionaire had no trouble envisioning the huge smile that had to be plastering the adorable face.

“How do I look?”

The voice was crystal clear, and reminded Tony of the day that he’d met the boy. He still sounded ridiculously young. The older man felt a surge of love and pride go through him.

“Like a superhero.”

He suddenly found himself ingulfed in a hug, and laughed, feeling just as happy as Peter was. He held the boy tightly, knowing that he could squeeze him as hard as he could without hurting him.

“Thank you,” Peter said, softly, his masked face pressed right against Tony’s neck.

“You’re welcome, honey.” He pulled the mask off with his free hand, and looked down at the boy. “So? Do you want to try it out now? Or wait until the weekend and go to the compound?”

He wasn’t surprised at the answer – or the way those beautiful brown eyes lit up.

“Now? Can we?”

“Absolutely.” He kissed his temple, holding him for a long moment and enjoying the fact that Peter was trembling; knowing that he was trembling because of excitement. Excitement Tony had created. “Keep the suit on, but throw your clothes on over it. I’ll bring my suit and we’ll see what kind of practical experimenting we can do.”


	146. 146

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, I'm home from my family reunion, so the updates will level out again

They went to Queens. Not that Tony really _wanted_ to; basically, the only thing good to have come out of Queens was _Peter_ , as far as the billionaire was concerned. But it was the place that the boy knew best, and he had tested his first web shooter there without being seen, so it was the place to go, now, to try out the new suit as well as the newest incarnation of his spinners.

Besides, there were less people there and many – most – of them were tired after a long day of work and taking care of their families and weren’t looking up in the sky or on the rooftops. They were more interested in getting the kids fed and put to bed and then getting to bed, themselves, preparing for another long day to come.

Now, though, Peter wasn’t alone. Tony dropped Peter in an alley and told the boy to meet him on a nearby rooftop. With the new suit protecting his identity, now, Peter was all smiles under the mask as he stealthily made his way to the rendezvous spot and then felt a thrill go through him when less than half an hour later a flash in the sky and a change in air pressure that he could feel even through the new suit’s fabric announced the arrival of Ironman.

The metal-clad figure landed on the same roof, and the helmet retracted as Tony walked over to stand by Peter.

“How does it feel so far?” Tony asked, thinking that Peter looked amazing, really. Like a superhero/vigilante should look.

“It’s great.”

“FRIDAY’S killed all video surveillance in this area so we can test you without an audience, but this is your show, honey. How do you want to do it? Do you want to do a patrol? Or wait and ambush the bad guys?”

Peter looked down at the street below them.

“Sometimes I’ll just find a spot and wait to see if I feel like something is going to happen and then do whatever I can to help,” he said. “But we could be waiting all night if we go that way, because sometimes nothing happens. Which is a good thing, I guess, but wouldn’t do us any good. So I’ll do a patrol of this area.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Peter hesitated.

“As much as I love the idea of you soaring through the streets next to me while I do it, you’re a little too conspicuous, right now. I’d rather try it without too many people gawking at me – in case I split my pants, or the webbing fails and I wipe out.”

“Then I’ll watch you from above,” he told the boy. “Make a circuit and I’ll meet you back here when you’re done – and well compare notes.”

“Sounds good.”

The mask once more covered Tony’s handsome face.

“Good luck, Spiderman,” came the metallic voice, and before Peter could reply, the suit was taking off, thrusters perfectly controlled as Ironman shot into the sky until Peter could only see the faintest spark of light – and knew most couldn’t even see that.

He looked around, debating for a minute where he wanted to go and checking, automatically, for where his first few web shots were going to be. Then he flung himself off the roof and shot the first web. The feeling of swinging was exhilarating. It always had been, but now it was a billion times better, because the fluid was smoother than his own amateur attempts (successful, though they’d been) and because with the skin tight outfit he was wearing, he didn’t have to worry about something slipping and maybe giving himself away.

Silently, he swung his way through the neighborhood, his eyes and ears waiting for any indication that something wasn’t as it should be. There wasn’t much; it wasn’t the weekend so there weren’t a lot of people out drinking and carousing as they might be later that week, but the one thing about the city; there was always someone about – and when there was, there was usually someone hoping to take advantage of that someone, if they were dumb enough or careless enough to allow it to happen.

As he swung into the next neighborhood, he spied a couple of women walking along the street and four dark figures following them at a distance that made it obvious they weren’t with them. Peter stopped, clinging to the side of a building while watching below. He wasn’t going to interfere; no one was doing anything wrong, really, but he figured he’d be close by just in case.

He watched as the women stopped on the corner and stood talking, and hesitated again, because while they were dressed provocatively, he wasn’t sure if they were hookers, or just a couple of women out having a fun evening. Hookers were trying to make a living, Peter knew, and he understood the need for making money any way that you could. Yes, it was illegal, but they needed to eat, and what they were doing wasn’t hurting anyone else. He wasn’t going to jump in front of them and tell them to go home.

He wasn’t going to let them get hurt, though, either. The men watching the two women weren’t (probably) out looking for a good time. Potential customers were usually more assertive, and not skulking. Peter had seen plenty of that activity in his time living on the streets alone and had come to recognize what it looked like. These guys were making sure not to be seen – by the women, or anyone else – and that made _them_ suspicious.

Patiently, Peter watched from above. A couple of cars drove by, slowing to talk to the two standing on the corner, but a sharp word and a raised finger told the boy that they weren’t hookers far more readily than him going down there and asking.

Looking for drugs, then, maybe? He’d seen a lot of drug deals, too, and knew that people who bought drugs could look like anyone. Because they _were_ anyone. As he was mulling this over, the streetlight above the two women suddenly shattered, startling them and Peter, too, truthfully.

The corner was suddenly drenched in darkness, dimly illuminated by only a few lights from windows and another lamp much further down the block. In the instant darkness, the men made their move and sprang out from their hiding place. Two going for each woman.

Before they even knew what was happening, one was pinned to the concrete by a short blast of webbing and another found himself knocked sideways by a slim but powerful body crashing into him at a terrific speed. He yelped and went tumbling to the sidewalk, crashing into a stop sign with enough force to knock him senseless.

The women screamed, and one of the remaining men grabbed one around the waist, trying to pull her along as he started to run off, but like a quick drawing cowboy that he had been pretending to be only days before, Peter shot webbing from his right wrist to catch the man’s feet, tangling him and bringing him down in a heap with the woman still in his arms.

The remaining attacker had given up on the women and was just making a run for it when a flash of light announced the arrival of Ironman, dropping right in front of his escape route and bringing him up short. Tony’s hand came up, the repulser glowing ominously bright, and the man’s hands shot up, and he dropped to his knees.

Shocked by the sudden events, the woman who hadn’t been grabbed was frozen in place, and the one that had been taken down with the attacker was as motionless as he was.

“Spiderman,” Ironman said by way of greeting, turning his head to look at the boy standing in the middle of the sidewalk. “Need some assistance?”

“What?” Peter blushed inside the mask when his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah. Hey, Ironman. Call for some police for me, will you?”

He walked over to the woman who was on the ground and offered her his hand, which she took, her face pale and her eyes wild with fright and shock. Peter pulled her gently to her feet.

“Are you inured?” he asked, realizing his voice sounded ridiculously young compared to Tony’s deep metallic Ironman sound.

She must have noticed, too, because her expression softened, just a little, and she nodded, trying to pull herself together.

“Yes. How…? I mean. What-?”

“Here,” Peter said, reaching down and picking up her purse, which had fallen when she had, and handing it to her. “The police are coming.”

“Which means that _you_ should be _going_ , Spiderman,” Tony said, pointedly, still holding his hand up and standing far enough back that he could watch all four men.

Not that _FRIDAY_ couldn’t keep an eye on them for him.

“What? Oh, yeah. You’ll stay?”

“As a favor from one superhero to _another_?” The metallic voice didn’t resonate with humor, but Peter could tell by the way he said it that Tony was almost certainly smiling under his own mask. “Absolutely.”

“You can’t leave,” the woman protested as Peter looked up for something to web. “You need to stay and tell the cops what happened.”

“Yeah. No. I’m glad you’re okay. Have a good night.”

Without any further conversation, he was gone, swinging into the darkness, easily, and finding a rooftop vantage point to watch as the first police cruiser pulled up to the scene only moments after he’d gone. Which meant that Tony had probably called law enforcement even before he’d jumped into the fray.

“Wow…”

Peter pulled his mask up, just a little, and took several deep breaths. Being a single little guy out trying to help the neighborhood was all well and good, but his first taste of actually doing something good. Something as part of a team (even though he knew it really hadn’t been that kind of dynamic, since Tony had rushed in to save him, more or less) was just amazing. And breathtaking.

He smiled, and could have danced an excited little jig on that rooftop, if not for the fact that he didn’t know if there were any surveillance cameras and he didn’t want to be on YouTube like that.

He was a superhero.


	147. 147

Peter had never actually waited around to watch the police do their job, but he did this time. For one thing, there wasn’t any reason for him to leave the roof he was on. Tony was still talking to the police and he was Peter’s ride home, unless he wanted to walk – which he didn’t mind, but he didn’t have his clothes to slip on over his suit. For another thing, it was interesting to watch as several more police cars pulled up, the webbing covering the men was cut away and they were all cuffed, but left sitting on the curb for a long time while the police did their work – talking to the women, writing everything down and whatever else it was they were doing.

From the motions both women were making, Peter was certain they were talking about him, too. Well, _Spiderman_ , anyway – not Peter Parker.

More police cars, and the men were all put into different cars and driven off, while a small SUV pulled up and a man got out, going straight for the two women, who hugged him tightly for a long time before they were ushered into the vehicle and taken away, as well.

“Meet me where I dropped you off,” came a sudden request through his watch, almost startling Peter.

“Okay.”

He watched as Tony shook hands with the police once more, and then he took off before the Ironman suit did, heading back to the dark alley – where he was standing thirty-five minutes later, when Tony’s expensive car pulled up.

“Get in, honey,” Tony said, rolling down the passenger window only long enough to make sure Peter heard him.

The boy did as he was told, and closed the door behind him, pulling off his mask with relief. It wasn’t tight, but it was restrictive, and he wished that he could figure out one that wasn’t. An impossibility, he knew.

“Everything okay?” he asked. “Were those women hurt, at all? I didn’t –“

“Slow down,” Tony told him, smiling. The Ironman suit was gone, and the billionaire was back in his jeans and t-shirt. “Get dressed. We’ll talk when we get to the apartment.”

“Alright.”

“Are you _hurt_ at all?” Tony asked, looking over at him. “Anything?”

“No. I’m okay,” Peter assured him, reaching for his jeans and kicking off the boots to slide them on.

“You _sure_?”

“Yes.”

Tony waited until he was finished getting dressed and then reached for the boy’s hand, settling it on his thigh and then covering it with his own.

“Want anything before we head home?”

Peter smiled, turning his hand upside right so he could lace his fingers through Tony’s. He’d been a little concerned that Tony might be annoyed that he’d had to come help – even though Peter was pretty sure he would have been able to catch all four me. The new web fluid shot out a lot faster than the stuff that he’d come up with on his own. If Tony was holding his hand, though, he couldn’t be _too_ mad.

“No, daddy.”

>>><><><>> 

When they returned to the apartment, Tony parked the car and leaned over and brushed a kiss against Peter’s lips before they opened the doors, replying on the tinted windows and FRIDAY’s interference to make sure no one saw the display of affection.

“Have I told you how incredible you are?” he whispered to the boy, who blushed a brilliant red.

“Yes.”

“Well, you are. Come on.”

They went to the elevator, and Tony rested his hand on the small f Peter’s back during the ride. When the doors opened, and they stepped into the living room, Peter couldn’t help but bring up the evening’s activity, once more.

“What happened?”

“Let’s get you out of your suit,” Tony told him, heading toward his bedroom. “The men are all wanted,” he said to the boy as Peter slipped off his shirt, and then slipped off the spider themed shirt, as well and handed it Tony, who folded it and put it in the suitcase.

No sense in letting it lay around and maybe be seen by the housekeeper.

“Wanted by the police, you mean?” Peter asked, sitting down to get his shoes off and slide out of his pants and the suit pants, also.

“Right. They don’t know, yet, because they haven’t really had a chance to do more than a preliminary report, but it looks like two of them have connections with human traffickers. You might have saved those girls from more than just getting mugged.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Before Peter could put his pants on, Tony stopped him with a touch. He held him still, a hand on either shoulder, looking him over, carefully, for any bruises, and then turning him around to check his back, as well. “You look alright…”

Peter shook his head, smiling, and pressing himself against Tony, silently asking to be held – and closing his eyes when he felt his arms going around him.

“I’m fine, daddy,” he told him, again. “The new suit is great, by the way.”

“It looks good on you,” Tony told him, kissing the top of his head. “Did you feel anything bunching, or pinching? Any adjustments needed before next time?”

“No. It’s amazing.”

“Good.” What would you have done if those men had been armed?” Tony asked. “Did you even check?”

“They didn’t have any weapons that I saw.”

“And if they had?”

“I’m not sure,” Peter admitted, wondering if he _was_ mad, after all. He sounded – and _felt_ – tense. “I couldn’t let them hurt those women.”

“No. Of course you couldn’t. I think you might benefit from some hand to hand fighting lessons, though.”

Tony felt the boy tense, and he pulled away to look up at him, his eyes excited.

“Really? Like Karate?”

“Or whatever Romanoff or Rogers think you should learn.”

“Lessons with Natasha?”

“If she’s not too busy. I’m going to mention it to her.”

“Wow.”

He smiled.

“I take it you’re willing?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Good. You were so incredible, honey. I was really proud of you, the way you went after those men and saved the day.”

Peter shivered, excited, and Tony hugged him close to keep him warm, since he was down to his boxers.

“Thanks. The new fluid works great,” he said, pressing his face to Tony’s chest, the adrenaline from the evening making him excitable, and Tony’s nearness all that he needed to become aroused. His hand slid down and under the back of Tony’s jeans and then up and under his shirt, caressing his back. “I’ll have to tell Bruce.”

“They’ll all be interested in hearing about it,” Tony told him, feeling himself responding to Peter’s touch. “We’ll be out there this weekend, so you can tell them, then…” He nuzzled Peter’s ear. “Sweet baby. So good. So _amazing_. So fucking sexy that I just want to eat you out…”

“Please, daddy,” Peter whispered. “Can we?”

“Yes, honey.” He tilted the boy’s head up, and kissed him. “You’re not too tired?”

“No.” He was too edgy from the chase to be tired – and that didn’t even add in what Tony was doing to him. “I’m wide awake.”

Tony’s hand slid along the front of his boxers, finding the throbbing proof to that statement.

“Yes, you are,” he said with approval. “Go get ready for bed, baby. Daddy’s going to make you so happy, tonight.”

“Yes…”

>><><><><>><>< 

The house was a fairly large one, set in a quiet neighborhood on a cul-de-sac. It was two floors, with an ultra modern interior and a high tech security system. A large yard in the front with tasteful landscaping and a fenced in backyard that had a swimming pool and a nice deck with a barbeque area and a fire pit.

Clearly the home of someone well-off.

There were two dogs in the household. One was a medium-sized lab, who always slept at the foot of the bed in the master bedroom, and a very small dog that slept with his owner in a nervous bundle of energy that never slept well, despite the comfortable bed.

The intruder wasn’t worried about either dog, or about the high tech security system. A push of a button turned off all alarms and exposed the house to her presence, and the lab never even woke when she walked by the door to that bedroom, on her way to the stairs.

An odd sound woke Tate from his sleep. Odd enough to make him roll over and open his eyes.

“Buster?”

He froze, eyes widening in fear. Standing beside his bed was a darkly clothed figure. Buster tucked under one arm – with a piece of adhesive medical tape securely around his little muzzle – and a gleaming, curved bladed knife in the other.

“Make a noise louder than mine,” the soft voice whispered, “And I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The teen nodded, not willing to test that threat with any noise at all, his eyes glued to the knife in the woman’s hand.

“You’re Tate?”

He nodded, again, suddenly realizing – even through his fear – that he recognized her. She was an Avenger. What was she-

“You’ve been very bad, young man,” Natasha Romanoff said, softly, setting the little dog down on the foot of Tate’s bed but never taking her eyes off of the person in the bed. “Very bad.”

He instantly knew what she was talking about, of course. Tate knew that Peter knew who Romanoff was; he had talked about her all the time. About how nice she was. How pretty. How intelligent. Peter had never mentioned how very terrifying she was, though.

“I didn’t touch him,” he said, softly – quickly.

Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes narrowed, slightly.

“You _did_ touch him. And you _scared_ him.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“You like being bigger than others?” she asked him, shifting just a little. “Forcing yourself on people who are only looking for friendship?”

“No. It wasn’t. I-“

“This conversation is going to be short,” she interrupted. “And you’re not going to mention it to anyone – because no one would believe you in the first place, but also because I’d be really _angry_ if you did. Understand?”

He nodded.

“Yes…”

“Do you know what this is?” Romanoff asked, holding the knife a little higher, so the light from the bathroom nightlight caught the metal, making it gleam.

“A knife.”

“A _gelding_ knife,” she corrected. “I picked it up in Dallas. Do you know what they use it for?”

“No.”

He was terrified to ask. It didn’t matter, though, Romanoff was willing to enlighten him.

“Ranchers use it to cut the testicles off of male farm animals. Horses, cows, sheep – anything that they don’t want reproducing. They catch it, they throw it to the ground, and they cut them off with a single quick slice. No pain killer, nothing to keep it from _hurting_. Any idea why I’m mentioning this to you, Tate?”

He nodded, silently.

“You stay away from him. Don’t call him. Don’t write to him, and don’t even _think_ about trying to talk to him in person. For that matter, you stay away from _all_ the little boys that you want to get to know better. I’m going to be watching you. Step out of line, and you won’t ever be able to make your parents into grandparents. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

With another flash of the knife, she turned, and he immediately lost sight of her in the darkness of his bedroom. He didn’t look for her, though. Terrified, he held still, listening for any noise that might indicate she was still there, and only after a full twenty minutes had gone by did he dare sit up in his bed and look around.

The house was silent, though, without any indication that someone had been there.

As it was supposed to be.


	148. 148

_“Natasha Romanoff is coming down the hall…”_

Peter and Tony both looked up from what they were doing at FRIDAY’s announcement. Peter was sitting at his desk, working on schoolwork under FRIDAY’s watchful eye, while Tony was at his, the displays off but his tablet on, watching the video uploaded by his AI of what had happened in Queens the evening before.

“I wonder what she’s up to,” Tony said, looking over at Peter, who shrugged, but was obviously curious, as well – and more than willing to be distracted by the assassin’s arrival.

“Secret _Avenger_ stuff?” Peter hazarded, tapping an English question on the display in front of him. “Need me to make myself scarce?”

“Of course not, honey. I need _you_ to finish that assignment."

There was a quick knock at the office door, and Romanoff stuck her head in, looking at the two and smiling.

“Busy?”

“Always,” Tony told her, getting up and walking around his desk to lean against the front of it. “Come in, anyway. I don’t want to get the reputation for being a bad host.”

“You already _have_ that reputation,” she pointed out. The spy walked over to Peter’s desk, first, glancing at the display as she leaned over to kiss his cheek from behind. “Grammar? _Ugh_.”

“I know, right?”

“Everything alright?” the billionaire asked her, curiously.

His expression clearly worried, but trying to hide that from Peter, at least.

“Yeah. I was just in the city and thought I’d swing by and check on my favorite Avenger.”

“ _I’m fine_ , thank you,” Tony said, making Natasha smile and Peter roll his eyes, cheerfully.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Speaking of _swinging_ , though,” Tony added, winking at Peter. “Guess who tried out his new suit and new webbing last night – _and_ managed to give the police a huge break in a human trafficking case that they’ve been working on for several months – if not longer.”

She looked at Peter, who was blushing, now.

“Please say it’s _you_ so I don’t have to pretend to not be impressed in order to keep his ego in check…”

The boy smiled.

“It was me.”

“How did it go?” she asked, looking him over – probably checking for bruises, Peter decided, amused.

“It was _great_. The new suit is awesome, and the web fluid comes out a lot faster, and gives me quicker webbing, so I can swing faster, now, too.”

“I have video,” Tony suggested, pointing at the tablet. “If you’re interested.”

“I don’t want to distract Peter from his schoolwork.”

“He’s seen it.”

She looked over at Peter who smiled and nodded, and it made her smile, too, because he looked so proud if himself. It was obvious that he wanted her to watch it.

“Alright, then, I’m definitely interested.”

Tony handed her a tablet and she sat on Peter’s desk, watching the video while the two of them watched her. When she was done, she looked up, first at Tony and then at the boy.

“Nicely done. I like the new suit.”

He nodded, again, eyes shining, happily.

“I do, too. It’s great.”

“They weren’t armed?” she asked, glancing at Tony.

“They _were_ ,” he corrected. “Knives, only, thank God. The cloth will give some protection from a bullet, but it’s not something I care to test.”

“They didn’t pull any weapons,” Peter added.

“Because you didn’t give them time,” she said. “Your best asset might be stealth. Ambushes like that will go a long way in keeping you safe if you’re out alone.” The assassin smiled. “Of course, having _Ironman_ looking over your shoulder certainly doesn’t hurt, though.”

“Right?”

“But I might not always be there,” Tony said, looking far more concerned than the other two. “I was thinking that he might benefit from a few lessons in how to keep himself in one piece in close quarters.”

“You want him to learn hand to hand?” she asked, clarifying.

“I think it’d be a good idea.”

Peter’s grin was excited. Romanoff had no problem reading his reaction to that particular idea.

“I do, too.” She smiled at Peter. “I take it you’d be okay with it?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Thinking about becoming a ninja, aren’t you?”

He blushed, slightly, but nodded, still grinning.

“A little.”

A _lot_.

“You won’t learn everything in a day.”

“I know.” He _did_. “But if you had someone show me what to do, I could practice every night.”

“Pffft.” She reached out to brush his hair from his forehead. “Like I’d trust someone other than me – or _Steve_ – to teach you?”

Tony snorted, but he enjoyed watching their interaction. Natasha was good with the boy, and Peter obviously loved her – although, _luckily_ , not in the same way that he loved _Tony_.

“We can come out to the compound on weekends,” he suggested.

“No. I mean, yes, come to the compound for the weekends,” she corrected. “But we’re just as mobile as you are. Probably more. One of us can come to your place a few nights a week. We’ll give him the basics; see how he does and then decide what he should learn. If Steve or I can’t come, for some reason (meaning a mission), then we can let one of the others take over for the night. It wouldn’t hurt him to be exposed to more than one sparring partner, anyway. The bad guys don’t all fight the same way.”

“Wow.”

She smiled.

“We could start tomorrow evening.”

“No,” Tony vetoed that. “We are playing D&D with Peter’s new friends tomorrow night.”

“What’s D&D?”

The billionaire rolled his eyes.

“So beautiful and intelligent, and so _clueless_ … I wonder about you, sometimes, Romanoff.”

“Tell me or I’ll kill you.”

Peter laughed, and Tony smirked, winking at the boy.

“Fine. Let’s go get a cup of coffee and I’ll explain all about it while Peter finishes his schoolwork.”

“Awww, Tony…”

He wanted to listen in.

“ _Schoolwork_ ,” Stark repeated, gesturing to the display. “Otherwise, no lessons.”

“Natasha would still teach me, _wouldn’t_ you, Natasha?”

She chuckled and leaned over, kissing the top of his head before standing up.

“Of _course_ I would, sweetheart. But Tony’s right; your schooling is important, so get to it. I’ll be back and chat with you before I leave.”

He grumbled, but did as he was told, far too good-natured to outright rebel – especially since he _liked_ the schooling and was more than well aware how lucky he was.

“Okay.”

“We’ll be back in a bit,” Tony told him and then led Romanoff to the door. Peter nodded and turned his attention back to the display, but he was still smiling when they left.

>>><><><>< 

“So?” Tony asked as they walked down the corridor toward a small break room that was primarily used by the few secretaries who had access to the executive floor. No one was there, now, but there was always coffee on, he knew. _Good_ coffee, even. And pastries and fruit. “What do you think?”

“About the self-defense classes? Or his outing?”

“His outing. You know a lot more about this kind of thing. How did he do?”

“He stopped the bad guys and didn’t get hurt doing it,” Natasha said. “He did fine.”

“But he could do better.”

“Of course. It’s convenient that you had your AI recording. If you want, I’ll drop a hint in Rhodey and Steve’s ear. They’re better with actual tactics, and they could sit him down and teach him more about ambushes and keeping himself safe while doing them. My style wouldn’t work very well for him.”

“ _You_ ambush.”

“And then, usually, _kill_. Peter will be better off working with Steve on that. Or, like I said, Rhodey. Or Sam. They’re military, and have that stuff drilled into them at officer training.”

“Sounds good.”

“Speaking of ambushes,” she said, taking a cup of coffee from him and reaching for a donut. “You don’t need to worry about the other kid.”

Tony knew immediately who she meant.

“But not because he’s _dead_ , right?” he asked, pointedly, only somewhat joking.

“He’s not dead,” she confirmed, hiding her smile and her amusement. “Not even _maimed_ , a little – although I was tempted. Even the little rat dog is fine.”

The billionaire shrugged.

“The rat dog is a menace. He’s tried to bite me.”

“He’s been _abused_ ,” Natasha said. Peter had told her all about little Buster, of course. “He has an excuse. _Tate_ doesn’t.”

“Thank you for handling that.”

“You’re welcome. Now, tell me about D&D.”

He directed her to a chair.

“I hope you’re not in a hurry to get somewhere,” he said, sitting down and automatically getting into lecture mode. “This won’t be quick.”

“How complicated can it be?” she asked with a shrug.

"It's a game created by nerds, _for_ nerds," Tony pointed out. "Believe me; it's complicated."


	149. 149

Bruce was in his lab and looking just a little confused when Tony walked Peter up to the scientist’s lab.

“What did you tell Natasha?” he asked while Peter went to go put on his lab jacket.

“What do you mean?”

“ _She_ wants to play D&D.”

The billionaire smirked.

“Really?”

“With _us_?” Peter asked, curiously.

“Not the Thursday night thing with your friend Ned,” Bruce said. He looked at Tony. “She wants me to help her fill out a character sheet sometime this week.”

“Good. It’ll give you something to do, keep you out of trouble.”

“And then she wants all of _us_ to play this weekend.”

“Even _me_?” Peter asked, excited.

“I’d assume so,” he answered, smiling at his young assistant. “She told me that she’s going to have Tony make up the campaign. I didn’t even know she knew what D&D _was_.”

Tony scowled.

“Wait. _What_?”

“She said we’re all going to play, so she can try it out,” Bruce repeated. “And you’re going to be the DM – so you’d better start coming up with a campaign before this weekend.”

“I don’t have time to make up a campaign,” Tony objected. “I’m a _busy_ guy.”

“Doing _what_?” Bruce asked, pointedly.

“Important superhero things.”

“You’d better come up with something a little more convincing than that if you don’t want to have her give you that look she gets.”

“What look is that?” Came Peter's question. 

He, of course, hadn't had the pleasure of having Romanoff annoyed with him.

The billionaire rolled his eyes.

“It’s the one that makes you think that only a lot of self control is keeping her from throttling you. But I can always hide behind _you_. She loves you, so she wouldn’t go through you to get to me.”

Banner shrugged.

“It’s probably easier – and safer – to just make a campaign for her. It’s _D &D_. She’s not going to want to sit around a table playing make believe all afternoon.”

“Don’t count on it,” Tony told him. “Knowing my luck…”

“Can I roll a character to play with you guys this weekend?” Peter asked, hopefully. “What kind of campaign do you think you’ll make? Something filled with Avengers references would be so much fun.”

“Like what?” Tony asked. “Can’t really have Hydra come out and play.”

“Could have some evil that needs to be taken down,” Bruce suggested. “Steve would probably want to play if you did something like that.”

“I’m not-“

“ _Please_ , Tony?” Peter asked, his big brown eyes turning Tony to goo. “It’d be amazing. _You’d_ be amazing as a DM. You’re super creative and so smart.”

Bruce smirked, even though he turned his face so Peter couldn’t see the expression. Tony would say no to pretty much _anyone_ to avoid doing something that he didn’t want to do. Maybe even Natasha Romanoff. But there was no way he was going to say no to his young protégé, now was there?

Not to judge by the way he was responding to those doe eyes.

“Fine. But _you’re_ going to help me.”

“I _can’t_. I want it to be a surprise while I play.”

Bah.

“Bruce?”

“No. I want to be surprised, too.”

There was no way he’d miss a chance to play D&D with Tony as DM.

“FRIDAY can help you,” Peter suggested. “Or maybe even Ned’s mom.”

“Perhaps. I’ll talk to her tomorrow night. Are you working late, tonight?” he asked Bruce.

“No. Only until about four o’clock.”

“Good enough.” The billionaire turned to Peter. “Meet me and Bob in my office, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Shaking his head, Tony left, and Bruce turned toward Peter, handing him a couple of vials.

“I heard you tried out the new suit.”

“I did. It was awesome.”

“And the new fluid?”

“Perfect.”

Peter started mixing the items that Bruce handed him, and it was a simple experiment they were doing, which gave them both plenty of time to discuss the new fluid and how well it worked. Even more, Bruce had a few ideas for one that might dissolve even faster, and still maintain the tensile strength Peter needed.

It was a fun and interesting way to spend the afternoon.

>><><><><><> 

When Peter joined Tony in his office only half an hour later than Bruce had anticipated, he found the billionaire sitting at his desk, with two different displays up, his hands manipulating both, and so focused that he barely noticed Peter’s arrival.

Until the boy insinuated himself between the monitors and Tony and climbed into his lap, his arms going around him and his head going to his shoulder.

Tony brought his hands down to slide them under the back of Peter’s sweatshirt, fingertips caressing the tender skin along his sides and running across the ribs, which were still noticeable, but nowhere near as pronounced as they once had been.

His baby was putting on a little weight, finally.

“Hi, honey,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against his nose, lovingly.

“Hi, daddy. What are you working on?”

“A campaign – just in case.” He turned the monitors off, knowing FRIDAY would save what he was doing. “Did you have a good afternoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Ready to go home?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He didn’t make any move to release Tony, though, which told him that he was in the mood to be held. Which was fine. They both loved the position they were in, just then. The arms on Tony’s chair didn’t allow Peter to straddle him, but it was still intimate.

“Have I told you you’re beautiful?”

“This morning.”

That morning when they’d both woken after a night of adrenaline fueled eager sex that had left them both breathless and satiated. Tangled in each other’s arms and practically stuck together with dried cum and sweat.

“You’re more beautiful, now.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re amazing, Peter.”

“You’re great, too, daddy,” Peter told him. “So handsome that I want to keep you all to myself, sometimes.”

Tony smiled. Peter was trying to add more sweet talk to his repertoire, and while it was clumsy at times, it was still sweet and never failed to make him smile. And sometimes it would make him hard. Like it was, then. Peter could feel it, too, and the boy smiled, wriggling sensually against him, trying to get in a position where Tony could press more of that suddenly aching cock along Peter’s rear.

“I need to get you home, honey.”

“You could have FRIDAY lock the door.”

“She already did,” Tony said. That was automatic, now. If he and Peter were in his office, the door was locked to keep anyone from walking in on them. He slid his hand out of Peter’s sweatshirt and found a handful of hair, pulling it just enough to tilt his head back, baring his neck for Tony to kiss, and then lick, which elicited a soft moan from the boy. “Can I have you here, honey?” he asked, hungrily. “Do you want daddy to fuck your beautiful ass right here on my desk?”

“No,” Peter whispered, his own hand sliding down between them.

“ _No_?”

“I want to do it on _my_ desk, daddy. _Please_?”

Tony made an approving noise at the thought – _and_ that Peter told him what he wanted (something else he was getting better at doing).

“Let me up.”

The boy stood up, but he didn’t move out of the space between Tony and his desk, his hands moving to his daddy’s hair, leaning over so he could kiss him, eagerly, his tongue teasing Tony’s lips, and then demanding entrance into his mouth, playing and teasing until they were both breathless. Tony pulled back, his hands going to Peter’s jeans, unbuttoning them, and then pulling them down, along with his boxers, but not bothering to take them off.

Peter’s cock was already aroused, and Tony bent his head and took him into his mouth, licking and sucking him, stroking him whenever he pulled back until the boy was thrusting his hips in time to Tony’s bobbing head.

“Yes, daddy, just like that,” Peter moaned. “Please…”

“What do you want, honey?” Tony asked him, pulling back to look up at his flushed, anxious face.

“To…” Peter closed his eyes, his hands making sure Tony’s head didn’t move. “Fuck me, daddy. Please?”

“God, you’re amazing. Fucking delicious. Brave and so wonderful.”

He opened his top drawer, grabbing the lube as he stood up, pulling Peter’s jeans up enough to keep them from tripping the boy and moved behind the boy’s desk, turning him away from him and bending him over his own desk. His hand went to the back of Peter’s neck, fingers caressing his hair as his other hand tugged his jeans down, again.

“Please, daddy,” Peter whined, pressing back against him, spreading his legs as much as his jeans would allow. “I need you. Daddy…”

“God, baby…” he could hear it a thousand times and it would never stop exciting him. “Daddy loves you so much.”

He lubed his fingers, sliding them into that beautiful crack, beginning to tease Peter’s hole, which resisted so wonderfully as he entered, and then squeezed the single digit as if changing its mind and trying to dislodge him. He added another, sliding along Peter’s inner walls until he found the spot that he was seeking and Peter moaned and squirmed, writhing under him until Tony ended up tightening the hold he had on his neck.

“Daddy…”

“Shhh, we’re getting there, honey… my beautiful boy.” He added a third finger and Peter couldn’t keep his hips still.

“Please. Now, daddy. Hurry.”

Tony didn’t need any further encouragement. His hand went to his pants and he opened them, fishing out his cock, and stroking himself while he admired the view of the boy he loved so much opened and waiting for his daddy to fuck him, senseless.

He lined up, nudging the head of his cock between Peter’s perfect ass cheeks and moaning, softly, himself, when he found his still tight hole and slid himself in, hand remaining on Peter’s neck to hold him in place.

“So perfect,” Tony grunted as he waited, giving the boy a chance to acclimate before he pulled mostly out and then jammed himself back. “So tight for daddy, baby. So amazing. Sexy. _Wonderful_.”

The litany continued with each thrust. The praise never ending as he rammed himself into Peter, repeated, his voice getting huskier and breathless as he drew close to his climax.

“Are you going to cum for me, honey?” Tony asked, reaching around and finding Peter’s aching cock, well aware that the cool wood wasn’t going to give him any friction to work himself against. “Dirty my hand, love. Show daddy what you can do.”

His own cock was driving into him, over and over, his balls beginning to tighten as he watched Peter take his length and grind back against him with each thrust, gasping with each stroke.

“Yes… oh, yes, daddy… I’-“

He didn’t make it past that when Tony felt his shaft tighten and his hand get slick with Peter’s climax. Peter writhed under him, hips jerking his cock repeatedly in Tony’s hand, helpless in the throes of his pleasure. Tony’s hands moved to Peter’s hips as his own cock twitched, driving himself deep and releasing, as well, his hips jerking hard, making sure Peter took every inch that he had as he shoved deep and held still, finally, washing Peter with his cum before collapsing on him for a long moment, trying to catch his breath.

“Jesus, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against the boy’s temple, and then using his hair to turn his head to kiss him fully, pushing his hips a few more times and reveling in the sensation of being inside the boy, feeling him spasm around his softening length. “You’re so perfect.”

“You are, too,” Peter assured him with a satiated smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t wait to get home. I just needed you so much.”

Tony chuckled and pulled out, pressing a kiss against the boy’s perfect globes before helping him get upright and turning him to tug his boxers and jeans up.

“I can live with it, believe me.” He kissed him, gently. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. It felt good.” The boy tucked Tony’s still-damp cock into his pants and zipped them back up. “I liked it.”

“I love you.”

Peter’s smile was only for him.

“Say it, again.”

“That I love you?”

“Yes. Please?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, hugging him close and listening to their hearts beating.

“I love you, Peter Parker. I love, love, love you.”

“Mmmm…” he felt him shiver, even through the sweatshirt. “I love you, too.”


	150. 150

_“Your party is sitting in a tavern, relaxing after a danger-filled journey and enjoying the first warm meal that you’ve had in days. The music is playing in the background, and people are having assorted conversations around you – all the while keeping a little clear of your group, since you’re not well known, and some of you are seedy looking.”_

Ned smiled over at Peter, gesturing to himself, since his character was a dwarf and they were notorious for being grumpy. The boy’s mother gave him a look that turned his attention immediately back to what she was saying.

_“Suddenly, the door opens, and two newcomers enter the tavern. Both are male, travel-stained, but attractive. They walk by the table where your party is sitting and you all see a flash of armor under the cloak of the taller, older human, while the elf walking beside him is bristling with weaponry and carrying a longbow.”_

Now it was _Peter’s_ turn to smile, because he was already getting into the story, and it was clear that Ned’s mom knew exactly what she was doing.

They were sitting around a large table that had a detailed grid in paper along the entire surface. At the moment it was completely covered, aside from the section that was drawn out as the tavern. He and Tony – along with Bob – had walked down to the comic book store just as they were closing up, and an excited Ned had ushered them into the store before anyone on the street could realize that it was Tony Stark. The door had been locked and the open sign turned off, and then they’d gone upstairs.

The Leeds’ dining room table had four other people around it. Ned’s mom, his dad and two older guys – in their early twenties – who stared at Tony when he and Peter had been introduced but had settled nicely, and were also allowing themselves to be drawn into the story being told.

_“’We’re looking for work,’ the human says to the bartender, and your party hears him. You are heading down south the next day, on your way to a mercenary fair where you expect to find work of your own, guarding caravans, but these two look tough, and their equipment is in good shape. It might be better to have more people, to get a better paying caravan. What do you do?”_

She looked at the others, expectantly.

“We talk to them,” Ned said, instantly, moving his dwarf over to the bar, where Tony’s human paladin and Peter’s Elvin fighter were situated. “And ask what kind of work they’re looking for.”

“Guards,” Tony replies, instantly. “My friend and I are fighters – looking for honest wages.”

Ned looked at his companions, who shrugged and nodded.

“We’re going south, looking for caravans that need guarding. The trip to the faire is dangerous, but if you’re willing to pull your weight, you and your friend can come with us.”

_“The invitation would seem suspicious,”_ Ned’s mom said, her face half concealed by the cardboard divider blocking her sheets and her dice. _“But the journey itself would be dangerous enough for each group to get an idea of how competent the others are – and give them time to coalesce as a team before actually finding a caravan.”_ She looked, pointedly, at Peter, to make sure he had a chance to put his opinion into the story. “ _What do you do?”_

He looked at Tony, and grinned, again.

“We accept.”

Those two words set in motion a long, drawn out journey to the ‘south’ of the table. A journey filled with kinds of decisions to be made and battles to be fought with monsters, brigands and even a small group of talking trees. Over the next two hours, Ned’s mother – with the occasional sound-effect from his dad, who rolled his eyes every time he was called on to make a noise – sent them on a pilgrimage of excitement and danger that had even Tony smiling and enjoying himself.

When it was done, his paladin and Peter’s fighter were firmly cemented as part of the party, and were dividing up loot as they entered the bustling marketplace and would seek work the next ‘day’.

“That was fun,” Peter told the others as they were gathering character sheets and equipment. “Thanks for inviting us.”

“It was _great_ ,” Ned agreed. “It’s always good to have a few more people – and not everyone likes to play a paladin, but they’re handy to have along.”

Tony winked at the boy, even though he was busy signing autographs for their companions – and taking a couple of selfies since the two had a fairly long ride home and were getting ready to leave.

“Always glad to help out.”

“Stay for dinner, boys?” Ned’s mom invited.

They’d eaten a light meal before leaving the apartment, and there had been snacks set out for while they were playing, but Tony could see that Peter was having a good time and he was more than willing to stick around a little while longer to allow it to continue.

He smiled at being called a boy – something that hadn’t happened in a long time – and even more amused since he was certain he was older than Ned’s mother by a few years.

“Sure.”

“Let me show you my room, Peter,” Ned said. “I just got the new Lego Deathstar, and it’s all over the place awesome.”

Peter followed Ned, and Tony hesitated only the slightest of moments before relaxing. An evening with Ned had reassured the billionaire that the boy was eager, intelligent and friendly. Of course, _Tate_ had seemed to be all of those, as well. But even if he was completely wrong, Tony knew that Ned wasn’t going to be dumb enough to try anything with Peter right under his parents’ noses.

Especially his mom, who Tony already had pegged as being sharp as a tack.

“Peter’s a senior?” Mrs. Leeds asked, as Tony helped her clear the table.

“He is. Ned is, as well, correct?”

“He’s actually ready to graduate,” she admitted. “But he’s too young to be on his own, and isn’t interested in going to school here in the city.” She rolled her eyes. “Which means that he’ll be away from home – and I’m not quite ready for him to leave my little nest, just yet. He’s too young to be on his own.”

“He seems to be a responsible young man,” Tony told her – and not just because it was the polite thing to say.

“He _is_. But the key word is young. Another year, at least. Then his father and I will discuss what schools he’s looking at. If it’s something close by, we’ll discuss him going at 16. Otherwise, we might try to get him to wait until he’s seventeen.”

“What are Peter’s plans?” Ned’s dad asked, curiously. “Ned told me that he’s a lab assistant for a renown scientist. I don’t remember the name, though.”

Obviously not a fanboy of Bruce’s, Tony thought with a hidden smile.

“Yes. Bruce Banner. Peter’s emancipated, so once he’s graduated it’ll be completely up to him where he goes to school.” The thought caused Tony a slight pang. He wasn’t ready for Peter to leave him for college.

“He’s still a baby, though,” Ned’s mother said. “He can’t be on his own.”

Tony smiled, wishing that Peter had heard her.

“He’s a lot more mature than his face makes you _think_ he is,” he assured her. “But, _yes_ , I agree with you.” Besides, Peter had tried being on his own, and it hadn’t worked out well for him, then. He was better off, now, with the job and the support system in place, but he wasn’t ready to be on his own. And Tony wasn’t ready to let him go. “He still has his senior year, so he’ll probably be seventeen before he’s ready to graduate. By then he’ll know _where_ he wants to go, and we’ll get him into it.”

“He seems like a fine boy.”

“That, he definitely is.”

“Ned can use a friend like that. He’s alone a lot. Too smart for the kids his own age at his school, so we pulled him to bring him home for homeschooling, instead. It makes it hard for him to make friends.”

“Yes. I’m sure Peter can relate to that.”

Before they could continue the conversation, Peter and Ned returned, and the topic changed to the campaign, and then – _inevitably_ – to Tony, himself, and to the Ironman suit and the technology behind it.

>>><><>><> 

“That was a lot of fun, wasn’t it?” Peter said a couple of hours later as they were walking home.

It was dark, now, but the street and the sidewalks were well-lit, and Bob was large enough to persuade anyone who was thinking that the two walking along the sidewalk were easy marks that they probably weren’t worth the risk of being bitten.

Tony nodded, pulled from his thoughts by the cheer in Peter’s voice – and expression.

“It was. I’m glad I came along.”

“I am, too.” The boy brushed his hand against Tony’s, even though he didn’t take it in his own. “Thanks for coming. I know you probably had other things that would have been more fun.”

“It _was_ fun, honey,” he assured Peter. “I haven’t played D&D in a long time. I’d forgotten how interesting it can be.”

“Are you going to make a campaign for Natasha?”

“Yes. But only if _you_ promise to play.”

Peter’s smile was enough to bring the sun back up, as far as Tony was concerned.

“It’ll be fun. Bruce already said he’d play – and that he’d help Sam and Rhodey roll characters.”

“Rhodey _knows_ how.”

“Yeah?”

“We played a few times in college.”

“Wow.”

Tony smiled.

“You’re not the only nerd in the group,” he told Peter, reaching out and ruffling the boy’s hair, fondly. “Just the _youngest_.”


	151. 151

Despite the fact that that Friday was an off day for school – and he wasn’t working with Bruce in the lab, Peter still woke when Tony did and got out of bed, not wanting him to have to face the beginning of the day by himself just because _he_ didn’t have to do anything. They both walked Bob, even though Peter said he would be fine doing it alone, and then Tony took a shower and shaved while Peter sat on the bathroom vanity and kept him company, admiring the man’s body as he always did.

“What are you going to do today, honey?” Tony asked as he wiped the last of the shaving gel from his face with a warm towel that Peter handed him.

“I thought I’d spend some time at the comic store – if you don’t mind?”

“Does Ned have school?”

“No. His mom and dad give him Friday off school – but he works in the store in the morning.”

“You’re okay with him?” Tony asked. “Comfortable, I mean?”

Peter nodded.

“He’s nice.”

“Anything we need to worry about?”

Which Peter understood to mean that Tony was worried about a repeat of the Tate thing. He shook his head.

“I don’t think so. He hasn’t mentioned little guy/big guy porn to me, or anything like that.”

“Has he mentioned porn?”

“No. But he asked if I knew Black Widow and what she was like and he said she’s hot.”

“Which she _is_.”

Peter smiled.

“Yeah. I don’t think Ned is interested in me. Not like Tate was.”

“And you’ll tell me if that changes?” Tony asked. “So we can make sure nothing happens.”

“He wants to meet Natasha.”

“We’ll see.”

“Are you working all day?”

Tony leaned over, kissing Peter, tenderly.

“Most of it. Everyone has meetings; trying to clear all of their schedules before the weekend starts. We’ll eat at the compound, tonight, if you’re alright with that.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

He didn’t care where they ate, really.

“Pick me up a couple of extra sets of dice while you’re at the store, okay? In case we need them this weekend.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Tony smiled and pulled Peter off the vanity and hugged him close for a long moment, then let him go.

“I love you.”

“I can’t even imagine why,” Peter told him, blushing happily.

“Because you’re wonderful,” Tony said, sincerely. “Do you want pancakes for breakfast?”

“Yes, please.”

“Go get the ingredients out while I get dressed.”

“I get to cook them?”

“No.” he smiled to soften the immediate denial. “You can try another time, when I’m not working so we have more of a chance to go over everything.”

“Okay.”

“There’s money in your wallet,” he added as they walked out into Tony’s bedroom. “If he can get away, why don’t you take Ned to lunch?”

“That’s a good idea. If he can’t, we can order a pizza. The store is busier, now, since you posted how much you like it, but there should still be time to eat.”

“Whatever you guys want to do. Just make sure you take Bob – and stay out of trouble.”

“Alright.”

Peter left the bedroom to get breakfast ready to cook, and Tony headed for his dresser to find some underwear.

<><><><>> 

“Accounting has a problem…”

Tony frowned, looking up from the tablet he’d been studying. Pepper was walking into his office – without knocking (one of the reasons FRIDAY was tasked with making sure the door was actually _locked_ when Tony and Peter were in it). Her expression was more amused than concerned, but he could count on one hand – one _finger_ – the amount of times she’d ever come to him to tell him accounting had a problem.

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Because it’s about Peter.”

Which made him sit up a little.

“What’s the problem?”

“We don’t have a bank account for him for direct deposit.”

“So?”

“So, today is payday. For everyone who has direct deposit set up. We can’t pay him if he doesn’t have a bank account, Tony.”

The billionaire smiled. Peter was going to love that.

“Print him out a _paper_ check, Pepper,” he suggested. “Not with _my_ signature, though, so it looks more official. I’ll make sure we set him up a bank account and get the numbers to the accounting people by next payday.”

“Where is he?”

“Home, He didn’t have school, today, so he’s hanging out at the comic book store with a new friend of his.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“If you’re a teen-aged nerd, it _is_ ,” Tony agreed. “We’ll be at the compound this weekend, if anything comes up.”

>>><><><><> 

Peter and Bob were out in front of the lobby of the apartment building when the limousine pulled up to the curb. Happy started to get out, but Peter waved at him and opened the back door himself, tossing first the backpack inside and then gesturing for Bob to get in – which he did.

“I got it, Happy,” Peter told the driver, cheerfully. “Thanks.”

Happy got back behind the wheel and Peter followed Bob into the car, smiling at Tony, who was seated in the seat across from where Bob was now lounging.

“Hey, honey,” Tony said, practically crooning. “How was your day?”

The boy closed the door and sat beside Tony until the car pulled away from the curb, then he got into Tony’s lap, hugging him, close.

“Hi, daddy,” he said, smiling as he kissed Tony’s jaw. “It was good. I hung out with Ned. He showed me how to use the cash register and let me ring up some stuff for a customer.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. His mom watched, though, to make sure I gave the right amount of change.”

“How’d you do?”

“It’s simple math.”

“How was the pizza?”

Peter had sent him a text with a picture of him and Ned and a large meaty pizza sometime around lunchtime.

“It was good. We shared it with Ned’s dad and Tom.”

“Tom is…?”

“The other guy behind the counter. He works part-time on the weekends when it’s busy.”

“Ah.” Tony put his arms around Peter, shifting just a little. “Speaking of working part-time… I have something for you.”

“Yeah? What?”

“It’s in my inside pocket.”

The boy smiled, and slid his hand along the expensive fabric of the shirt Tony was wearing, reaching the pocket of his suit. He pulled out a pen, frowning.

“A new pen?”

Tony rolled his eyes, amused, and took it away from him.

“No. That isn’t it. Try, again.”

“Your wallet?”

“Jesus…” he smirked, though, realizing that Peter was messing with him, and he loved it. “You know, you’re a little bit of a smart ass, Peter Parker. Aren't you?”

The boy grinned.

“A _little_. Yeah. You must be rubbing off on me.”

Tony didn’t mind. He loved that Peter was happy. If he was happy teasing him, or having a little fun at Tony’s expense, he could live with that, willingly. He took his wallet from the boy, as well, and then reached into the pocket himself and pulled out an envelope with the official Start Industries logo in the corner, which he handed to Peter.

“Here. This is for you.”

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

Peter did as he was told, leaning back in Tony’s lap a little so he could worry the envelope open and pull out the folded paper inside. It had his name on it, and a lot of different numbers, neatly typed and put in columns. He’d never actually seen one in real life, but Peter was pretty sure it was a paycheck. _And_ it had _his_ name on it and no one else’s.

Well, _Pepper’s_ name was in the signature at the bottom.

“This is _mine_?”

“Yup.”

“Wow.”

He was rich.

“We need to get you a bank account set up, though, honey,” Tony told him, pleased at how excited his baby was. “You obviously can’t be carrying that much money around in your wallet, and the accounting guys don’t like making paper checks, so we’ll get you set up with direct deposit. That way they can put your paycheck directly into your bank account.”

“How does that work?”

“It’s just done electronically. But it’ll be there if you want cash for something and I haven’t put some in your wallet. We’ll make sure you have a debit card, too.”

“Wow.”

Tony smiled, pulling the boy’s head back down to his shoulder so he could cuddle with him.

“Put that in your pocket so you don’t lose it, baby boy.”

“Okay, daddy.”


	152. 152

They reached the compound well before dinner. The drive out was relaxing for both of them. Peter’s go to spot in Tony’s lap was a good way for the two of them to cuddle. And to fool around if they were of a mind to do so. That afternoon, Tony was a little worn from the mind-numbing day of meetings, while Peter had spent a fun time with Ned and was far more alert. Catching on that Tony was tired, the boy didn’t engage in much conversation once they left the city; rather, he kept his cheek on Tony’s shoulder, watched the scenery go by and idly opened a couple of buttons on Tony’s shirt so he could caress the bare skin of the older man’s belly and side.

Tony was so relaxed by the boy’s attentions that he was almost asleep by the time they pulled up to the compound, and Peter smiled when he buttoned the shirt back up, noticing that Tony looked a bit sleepy.

“Long day, huh, daddy?”

“A long _week_ ,” he agreed. “I’ll be glad to do nothing for a couple of days.”

Peter kissed him, tenderly, and got off his lap, straightening Tony’s jacket.

“Do you want to go take a nap?”

“We’ll see how I feel when I’ve moved around a little.”

The door opened and Happy waited while Bob got out, first. The driver snapped off the leash; by now, they all knew Bob wasn’t going to run off into the trees or the water, so he was fine without the constant control of the leash. Peter picked up his backpack and grinned at Happy.

“Are you sticking around?” he asked, curiously, while Tony got out and stretched a little.

“Nope.” Happy winked. “I have big plans this weekend.”

“Hot date?” Tony asked.

“That would be _telling_.”

The driver was clearly in a cheerful mood, though, and that wasn’t the norm for him. Toy smirked, warning them both that something snarky was going to come out of his mouth, next.

“Well,” he said, making a show of looking at his watch. “If you’re picking her up this evening, you’d better hurry. The pound closes in half an hour.”

Peter snorted, and Happy made a grab for him, putting him in a headlock, amused and pleased at how healthy the boy seemed compared to when they’d first found him. He was cheerful, more confident - sometimes - and was happy. Being cared about made all the difference in the world, the driver knew.

“Don’t _encourage_ him, Peter. He doesn’t need you stoking that smart mouth of his.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Tony said as the boy freed himself and danced away, grinning. “I _do_ need stoking.”

“Sunday afternoon?” Happy asked Tony, obviously not at all offended at being the butt of his joke.

He preferred Tony in the good mood he was in, when they could get him that way, and he knew Peter had a lot to do with that.

“Yeah, probably around six, or so. We’ll eat here.” Stark slapped his shoulder as he took Bob’s leash from him. “Have a good time this weekend. Use the Lambo, if you want to be flashier than the limo allows.”

“I might take you up on that,” Happy told him, closing the back door.

They headed into the building, and Peter was fairly skipping as they walked to their rooms, first, to drop off the boy’s backpack.

“How do you feel?” Peter asked, when they went to Tony’s room so that he could change.

He didn’t need to bring clothes with him, since he had been established in the compound long enough that he had plenty of things to wear, and he pulled off his suit jacket, while studying Peter. He wasn’t dragging, and he knew that Peter was eager to go see everyone, but that he’d want to stay with Tony if he said he was going to nap.

“I’m fine, honey,” he assured him, with a slight smile. “I’m going to change. Why don’t you go see where everyone is and what they’re up to?”

“You don’t care?”

“Of course not. Take Bob, though, okay? He could probably stand to stretch his legs a little. I’ll be along in a minute, and we’ll see what kind of trouble we can find to get into.”

“Okay.”

Peter stepped into his bubble for just a minute, though, well aware that it would be his only chance to really hold him all evening and definitely wanting to hold him whenever he could. He slid his arms around Tony, who hugged him close, pressing his chin down on the top of the boy’s head, lovingly.

“Hey, honey…”

“Hi, daddy.”

“You need me, baby?” Tony asked, wondering if Peter wanted more, but was just unable to ask, just then.

“Just want to hold you.”

The billionaire groaned, and squeezed him tightly, knowing that even if he held him as hard as he could, he wouldn’t hurt him. He was tough.

“You’re so fucking perfect, Peter,” he whispered, kissing his ear. “Go find the others,” he finally said, though, releasing Peter and turning him around, pointing him to the door. “If we don’t show up soon, someone will send out a search party.”

Peter knew it was true – although the party might just be limited to one person.

“We’ll save you a seat.”

He and Bob left and Tony smiled, watching them go. He suddenly wasn’t nearly as tired as he had been, and found himself looking forward to an evening of whatever the others had in mind. Still smiling, he headed for his dresser for some jeans and a t-shirt.

>>><><><><>< 

There was a small group of Avengers at one of the tables in the lounge when Peter and Bob walked into the room. From the murmured conversations that were going on, and the books and sheets of paper in the middle of the table, Peter might have thought there was a serious discussion or two happening, but his sharp hearing also caught the sound of dice being rolled and snippets of conversations about dexterity and strength and he knew otherwise.

He smiled, and walked over to stand behind Natasha, knowing that even someone as quiet as he was had absolutely no chance of sneaking up on her, but he put his arms around her and covered her eyes, trying to make his voice deeper, while the guys around the table all watched, suddenly silent.

“Guess who?”

She didn’t tense, which told him that she’d known he was there, but she was more than willing to play along.

_“Brad Pitt?”_

“Nope.”

_“Thor?”_

Peter grinned, but wondered if he’d ever have a chance to meet the god of thunder, sometime. Wouldn’t _that_ be amazing?

“Guess again.”

She blindly reached back, sliding questioning fingers along his forearm and then his shoulder, touching his face.

“Hmmm… feels handsome and adorable, and Bob just plopped down on my foot, so I’m going to guess _Anthony Stark_.”

Peter frowned.

“Who’s _Anthony_ Stark?” he asked, letting her go, and smiling when she turned to look at him, her beautiful eyes sparkling with cheer as she pulled him into her arms to hug him.

“That’s _Tony_ ,” Sam said, surprised that Peter had somehow missed that connection – but then wondering why he was surprised, at all. “Anthony. _Tony_. See?”

“No.”

“It’s just a shortening,” Steve told him. “Like people can call you Pete.”

“Why don’t they call him _Anth_?”

Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Because he wouldn’t _answer_ to it,” she replied. “Trust me.”

He did.

“Since you’re here, Peter,” Bruce said. “Why don’t you help me explain to _Nat_ , here, why she can’t roll herself an assassin?”

He looked at her, and then at the character sheet that was only partially filled out.

“You’re rolling an _assassin_?”

“Yes.”

“But…”

“It’s what I _know_ ,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, I mean, you _can_ be an assassin, but are you sure you _want_ to be?”

“See?” Bruce said. “You should use this as a chance to play something completely different. A ranger, or a druid.”

“I don’t _want_ to be a druid,” she said, affecting a pout that wasn’t sincere – and even Peter knew it. “And Clint made an _archer_. So if he can be an archer, why can’t I be an assassin?”

“Yeah,” Rhodey said. “Who let _Clint_ roll an _archer_?”

“Hey, he’s a _dwarf_ , though,” Barton said, defensively. “So he’s not like me, at all.”

“Says _you_ ,” Sam replied.

“If I can’t be an assassin, Clint can’t be an archer.”

“But-“

“Fair’s, fair,” Steve said.

“Says the guy who wants to be a lawful good human fighter.”

“Paladin looks _complicated_.”

Peter shook his head, amazed at the conversation that he was listening to. This was the _Avengers_. Earth’s mightiest heroes. And they were so mundane, just then, arguing like a group of normal people trying to get their own way. It was incredible to him. And definitely eye opening.

“Peter?” Bruce said. “Settle this, okay? They’ll all listen to _you_.”

The boy hesitated, and Natasha pulled him down on her lap, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his shoulder, pretending to seduce him.

“If you let me be an assassin, I’ll take you for a ride in my Corvette.”

“If you make her be something else, I’ll let you _drive_ her Corvette,” Bruce countered.

“You _should_ try to be something _different_ ,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her. “Clint and Steve _should_ , too. I rolled a half orc because it’s been a long time since I played one. Make a thief – it’s a little different, and they have a lot of fun, because they can be sneaky.”

“Better yet,” Rhodey said. “ _Steve_ can make a thief and Nat can play a ranger.”

“What’s Clint going to be, then?” Sam asked.

“A _druid_ ,” Bruce said.

Now all of three of them were scowling, but Peter grinned.

“That’d be a lot of fun.”

Romanoff grumbled, but she shrugged, finally, and acquiesced.

“Fine. But it still gets to be a sexy elf ranger.”

“I think we can all agree to that,” Bruce said.

The rest of the men at the table nodded.

“Definitely.”

Peter got out of her lap, blushing when she made a show of holding him, tightly for a long moment before allowing it.

“Where’s Tony?” she asked, reaching for a blank character sheet.

“He’s coming,” the boy told her. “Had to change.”

Even as he said it, Stark appeared at the door and walked over to join them, now wearing jeans and a t-shirt and looking relaxed.

He noticed immediately what they were doing, of course, and looked at Bruce.

“Tell me she isn’t rolling an assassin?”

Romanoff scowled; she hated the thought of being so predictable – even with a game.

“Of course not. I’m going to be a _ranger_.”


	153. 153

Despite the neophytes in the group, there were enough nerds in the form of Rhodey, Tony, Bruce and Peter to help everyone get their characters ready to play D&D. Of course, Tony grumbled about missing out on the fun of _playing_ , as well, but Natasha pointed out to him that he enjoyed being in charge – which he did. He’d had a good time playing with the comic store group under Ned’s mom as the DM, but he much preferred to be running things.

Besides, he’d come up with a pretty good campaign, if he did say so, himself.

They had dinner as a group, with the others trying to convince Tony to give them hints about the campaign as they made their way through a large tray of Mexican food; tacos, chips, burritos, beans and rice and Mexican beer for the adults, while Peter settled for a cola. Tony refused to give out any hunts, telling them all that anticipation was good for their digestion.

They complained and several times he found a chip tossed his direction, but by the time they were finished eating, all they knew for certain was that it would involve dungeons, and perhaps (gasp) a dragon, or two.

“Is Nick playing?” Peter asked, curiously, when they were done clearing the table. “Or Robert?”

“They’re both out of the state,” Natasha told him. “They probably won’t be back until Monday or Tuesday.”

“On an Avenger mission?” he asked, excitedly.

“Nope. An amateur golfing tourney,” Clint replied. “They both entered, so it’ll be interesting to see who places higher.”

Even though they were finished eating, none of them were in a hurry to excuse themselves, and they sat around the table, enjoying the company without having to worry about saving the world – or at least some small piece of it. When Natasha asked Peter and Bruce how his job was going, Peter grinned, excitedly, and pulled the almost forgotten envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“Look.”

She frowned at the wrinkled paper in her hand.

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

Peter wasn’t the only one watching as she did, but he was clearly the most eager. She pulled the check out and looked at it, and then looked at him.

“What is this for?”

“It’s my first paycheck,” he told her, proudly. “I don’t have a bank account so they had to give me a paper one until I can get one. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Yes, it _is_.”

“What does a part-time lab assistant at SI make?” Clint asked, curiously, pulling the check from Natasha’s hand and then whistling. “ _Wow_. I need to go back to school and become a scientist in training.”

Peter smiled.

“I was thinking that we could go to the movies or something,” he said. “ _My treat_.”

“Ooo, the _movies_ …” Natasha made an impressed noise, taking the check back from Clint and handing it over to Steve so he could be suitably impressed, as well. Which he was – although shocked might have been a better term for the expression on his face. “The only theater around here is a drive in one, and it’s a little cold for that, I think.”

“It’d be fun,” Peter said. “I’ve never been to a drive in movie – but I’ve seen them in the movies a couple of times.” He looked at Tony, hopefully. “What do you think?”

“I think you’d catch a cold.”

Peter was disappointed – even though he understood completely why Tony had said that. Watching a movie outside when you could see the same thing in the comfort of your living room was just asking for a chill. Especially Peter, who was _always_ cold, already. He fought down the distress, and tried to hide it.

“Yeah.”

“You could treat us to _ice cream_ , though,” Natasha said, reaching out and touching his hand. “And we could watch a movie, here.”

“I’d do that,” the boy agreed, readily. It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was better than nothing – and he felt like he’d be able to do something for them after everything that they did for him. “There’s a Dairy Queen down the highway.”

They all knew, of course.

“Let’s go,” Clint said, slapping the table and standing up.

The others followed suit, and everyone headed for the garage. There were several SUVs at the compound and Steve got behind the wheel of one, with Peter taking shotgun. Tony, Sam, Rhodey, Natasha, Bruce and Clint all piled into the back rows with Bob and they pulled out – after Steve waited until everyone had their seatbelts on – which made most of them roll their eyes, good-naturedly.

They went through the drive-thru since they couldn’t take Bob in with them and everyone made a big deal out of choosing exactly what they wanted, making sure to pick something exciting and interesting (since Peter was buying, after all). Even Bob had a small ice cream cone. Then they hurried home with their treat and went to the theater room to watch a movie before their ice cream melted.

They pulled out large, fluffy, pillows and blankets, and Natasha and Tony bracketed Peter between them, while Bob played backrest for Sam, who had to protect his banana split from the big mastiff’s attentions. Rhodey and Bruce had the other couch, and Steve and Clint ate Peanut buster parfaits in lazy-boy chairs while they all watched _Signs_ and picked apart the discrepancies in the movie, while thoroughly enjoying themselves.

It wasn’t a normal way for them to pass an evening, but all of them understood that it was a good way to team build – and they knew that Peter had felt good about paying for the ice cream, despite the fact that he was actually using _the Dallas mechanical Bull Riding Fund_ , rather than his paycheck. Tony finished his blizzard and set the cup aside before he pulled a blanket over Peter, himself and Natasha. She was still working her way through her own blizzard, but Tony’s hand found Peter’s under the blanket and he squeezed it, lightly, looking over when Peter glanced at him, and winking.

Peter’s smile was happy enough, and genuine, but Tony told himself they’d go to a drive in theater another time. Preferably when it was just the two of them so they could really do some cuddling. And when it was less crowded.

It was still fairly early when the movie ended, but everyone was ready to call it a night. Natasha and Steve waited at the sofa while the others left, and she told him to make sure he got a good night’s sleep so he’d be well rested for the next day.

“It’s D&D, Natasha,” Peter told her. “I’m not going to need to be that awake.”

“Except that D&D is tomorrow night,” she said. “But your first self-defense class is tomorrow before lunch.”

His eyes lit up.

“Really?”

Steve nodded.

“We want to get an idea of what you can do, so we know what to bring with us when we come to the tower.”

“Wow.”

Natasha smiled, leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“You say that a lot, you know?”

He blushed.

“Yeah.”

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Steve told them both.

“Come to the lounge,” Tony said. “Peter and I are going to make breakfast.”

“You are?” Natasha asked.

Peter looked just as surprised.

“We are?”

“Yes. Pancakes.”

The boy smiled, deciding that Tony had figured it would be a lot safer to mess up the kitchen at the compound than to allow Peter another chance to destroy his own. He didn’t mind; it was going to be great.”

“Wow.”

They chuckled and left Tony and Peter sitting alone on the sofa, Bob lounging on the floor by their feet.

Tony put his arm around Peter’s back, the motion hidden by the blanket and Peter’s body, as well as the dim lighting in the room.

“You do say that a lot, you know.”

Peter blushed, leaning into him, a little more than he had when Natasha had been sitting with them.

“Because it’s _great_ , and I don’t know what else to say.”

“I know, honey. It’s not a bad thing, believe me.”

He nodded, and Tony risked brushing a kiss against his cheek.

“Do you want to watch another movie?”

“No. Bob probably needs out.”

“And _then_?”

“Whatever you want to do,” he said, softly. “As long as I get to do it with you.”

“I want to do that, too.” He pulled the blanket back, and got to his feet, pulling Peter up in the same motion. “Come on, baby. Let’s get Bob taken care of and then we’ll do some stargazing.”

>><><><

“Are you warm enough?”

Peter nodded, even though he shivered just a little, despite the fact that Tony was on one side of him and Bob was on the other. He was also wearing a sweatshirt and covered in two blankets, and lounging on another.

Tony had taken a pickup truck and pulled it out of the garage and out into the drilling field, parking it in the middle of the dark expanse to give them the best view of the night sky. It also afforded them privacy, since no one could see them, and the infrared video cameras were disabled by FRIDAY. Then they’d put Bob in the back with them and had made a cozy little nest, cuddling together.

“This is the best we can do for a drive in movie tonight,” Tony whispered in his ear as he pulled Peter close, hands sliding under the sweatshirt and his lips nuzzling the boy’s neck for just a moment, before he turned to look up at the sky. “It wouldn’t have worked very well with all the others trying to fit into a car and see the screen – and I _like_ Steve and Rhodey and them, but a nest like this is a bed built for two – and the dog.”

Peter nodded, his hand finding Tony’s.

“It’s great, daddy.”

“I love you, honey.”

The boy smiled.

“I love you, too.”

“But don’t catch cold, okay?”

“You’ll have to keep me warm.”

Tony chuckled.

“That’s my perfect boy,” he whispered, approvingly. “Brave enough to tell daddy what to do.”

Peter shivered, and it had nothing to do with the temperature.


	154. 154

Something was different.

He didn’t know what, exactly, but there was an odd noise and it was enough to wake him. Peter opened his eyes, and was a bit surprised to find that he was surrounded by open air. Not that air was all that _bad_ , of course, but he couldn’t remember a time there had ever been so much around him when he woke up. And the birds were super loud, but _they_ weren’t the odd noise that had woken him.

He sat up, sleepily, and looked around, realizing that he was still in the back of the pickup truck that he and Tony had been stargazing in the evening before. The sun was coming up, now, though, and what had been a dark field with an even darker sky was now gray with the weird light that only comes at the very beginning of the day.

He and Tony must have fallen asleep in the bed of the truck, Peter decided, sleepily, shivering in the chilly morning air – and then froze, looking out at the field. And the small herd of deer that were grazing on it.

“ _Jesus_ … it’s _cold_ …”

Tony was waking up, as well, and reached blindly for Peter, cuddling him close and pulling him down beside him to bring the blankets back over him. Peter let him do that, but his body was tense with excitement.

“Tony… there are _deer_ out there,” he whispered, excitedly, lifting his head just enough so that he could see over the side of the truck, peeking out over it to look at the graceful creatures near the trees.

“What?” The billionaire stuck his face into Peter’s hip, his hand automatically sliding along Peter’s thigh. “We fell asleep, dear?”

“No. _Deer_ ,” Peter repeated, still speaking softly, still peeking at them. “Like Bambi. _Look_.”

Tony grumbled, but Peter’s excited tone was waking him, and he sat up, looking around, owlishly, and turned the same direction that Peter was looking. And saw the small herd that had his baby so worked up.

“Look at that…” he said, not nearly as mesmerized by the sight as Peter, but enjoying the way Peter was reacting.

Several heads came up at the sound of his voice – or maybe they caught the motion of his body coming up higher than the side of the truck bed. Peter held his breath, his hand holding Tony’s forearm, tightly, but the wind shifted and the deer caught the scent of the big mastiff, and apparently added to the uncertainty of the truck itself, much less the people in it, it was enough to make them take off, white tails flashing as they ran away.

“Wow,” Peter said, looking over at Tony, his eyes lit up with excitement. “Did you _see_ that?”

“I _did_ ,” Tony said, laying back down and pulling the blankets up over him. He put his head in Peter’s lap, brushing a kiss against the muscular thigh. “We should go inside. I can’t believe we fell asleep out here. It’s _freezing_.”

“It’s not too bad.” He ran his hand through Tony’s hair, enjoying the way he had his head in his lap, making Peter feel like he was comforting and cuddling Tony, for a change. “You’re so pretty, daddy.”

Tony smiled up at him.

“Yeah?” He turned his head, kissing Peter’s stomach through his sweatshirt, and then slid his hand under it, running his fingers along his belly. “You’re sexy in the morning.”

Peter blushed, pleased at the compliment.

“We fell asleep,” he said, unnecessarily.

“Yeah. We should go inside and get warmed up.”

“I’m not too cold.”

“I am. _Bob_ probably is, too.” He ran his hand along the front of Peter’s jeans, feeling the slight bulge of his baby’s beginning morning wood. “Besides, I can’t do anything with _this_ out here in the open.”

Which made Peter smile.

“We told everyone we were going to make _breakfast_ ,” he reminded the billionaire. “We won’t have time to do anything like that.”

He shivered, though, at the touch, and the chill morning air.

“Too bad,” Tony told him, huskily, burying his face into Peter’s lap, playfully. “Daddy likes to suck on his baby’s cock like it’s a bottle.”

“Daddy…”

He chuckled, pleased at Peter’s response.

“Don’t worry baby. We’ll finish this conversation later. Where it’s warm – and the deer and the antelope aren’t playing.”

Peter pulled away just enough to allow himself to sprawl down bedside Tony on the truck bed for a minute cuddling against him, letting Tony gathering him into his arms and hugging him tight.

“Today?”

“Maybe. Depends on the schedule. Considering how relaxing it’s supposed to be, there’s a lot going on.” He rolled over, though, putting Peter under him, the blankets coming up over their heads completely and his body between the boy’s legs and grinding lightly against him. “After lunch we’ll find some time in the workroom,” he promised. “And I’ll fuck my baby until he’s moaning with happiness. How does that sound?”

“Yes. Perfect.”

Tony smiled, leaned down and kissed him, enjoying the morning wood feeling and the anticipation of taking care of both of them later.

“I love my baby boy.”

“I love you, too.”

“Let’s go get warmed up, and then make the others some breakfast.”

“Sounds good.”

On the plus side, they didn’t need to walk Bob any further than the back of the truck.

>>><><><><><> 

“What’s _burning_ …?”

“Shh…” Natasha scowled up at Sam, who had just walked into the lounge, spotted the rest of them sitting at the table and had come to join them. “Nothing’s burning. Everything is perfectly _fine_.”

The newest arrival looked at the smoky haze that was creeping along the top couple of feet of the room, only to be sucked out by the ventilation system.

“Yeah. It’s fine… What is it?”

“Peter’s making breakfast,” Rhodey replied, looking down at his plate, mournfully.

All that was sitting on it was a couple of pieces of bacon.

“I thought Tony was going to help him?”

“He _is_ ,” Steve told him. “He’s in there, too.”

They all turned toward the entrance to the kitchen.

“Tony’s a good cook, though,” Sam pointed out, confused, as he sat down and Steve handed him a plate.

“Yes. Which is why the sausages and bacon are churning out perfectly,” Natasha said, pointing at a platter of both that was sitting in the center of the table. “He put Peter in charge of the _pancakes_.”

“Where are they?”

“We’re still waiting,” Clint said, spearing a few sausages. “It’s not looking promising.”

><><><> 

“Okay…” Tony’s voice was far calmer than Peter’s body language. “Turn the griddle down, honey.”

“To the mark?”

“Yes.” He watched, and then waited a moment. “We’ll let the heat drop and then you can try again.”

“It _said_ 350.”

“I know. This one isn’t on you.”

The _last_   four tries had been, but this time it was just the griddle.

"Okay."

“Why don’t you take out the orange juice while we wait?” Tony suggested.

“Okay. But don’t start them until I get back.”

“Right.”

Damn. He’d planned on doing just that. Peter was young, but not dumb, and Tony smiled as he watched the boy carry the freshly made (frozen) orange juice out to the waiting table. A table filled with hungry Avengers who were probably starting to think that maybe they should have spent the weekend golfing with Nick and Robert.

“How’s it going in here?” Steve asked, walking into the room just as Peter left.

“The boy is like anti-matter to matter,” Tony said, shaking his head in disbelief. “When matter is the ability to _cook_ and –“

“I get it,” Steve interrupted, amused. “Why aren’t _you_ cooking?”

“Because I gave him the job of making pancakes – assuming incorrectly – that it would be the easier of them. If I’d left him to cook the bacon or sausages, he probably would have started a grease fire, and still ended up with everything undercooked. You think _e-coli_ is bad, try trichinellosis.”

“Which is?”

_“Food poisoning_.” Tony watched the entrance, a little amused and a lot astounded. “I thought that the cookie baking fiasco was a one time aberrant, but it’s the damndest thing. The first set of pancakes were undercooked. The next, overcooked. You’d think he’d catch the happy medium, then, right? Nope. The next set burned, too. Then he got it right, but he folded every pancake when he tried to flip them, and they were runny inside. The kid is a kitchen disaster.”

“So, run out of pancake batter and make toast. We can have bacon and sausage sandwiches… Maybe eggs?”

“No. I’m not going to let him _fail_. Even if it means another hour to get it right.” They both saw Peter walk back in, grinning at a joke Natasha had told him. Tony shooed Steve away. “Go sit back down. Pancakes will be out in a minute.”

Steve shook his head, amused, and did as he was told, giving Peter a high-five as they passed each other.

“Well?” Rhodey asked, as Steve reclaimed his seat, and reached for another slice of bacon. “What did you learn?”

“We’re going to starve.”

 


	155. 155

“Comfortable?”

Peter nodded, smiling, excitedly.

“Yes.”

“Relaxed?”

“I think so.”

“Nervous?”

“A _little_.”

Now Steve smiled, too.

“No need to be. This is going to be fun.”

They were facing off in the gym, standing on a large blue mat. Peter was dressed in black sweats and a blue MIT t-shirt that _had_ belonged to Tony until Peter had found it in his laundry pile, instead, and had liked it so much (and had looked so delicious in it) that Tony had given it to him. Steve was also in sweats, and a t-shirt that strained against his muscular upper body – which had made Tony roll his eyes when he’d first seen him in it.

“First lesson is going to be an easy one,” Steve promised Peter. “I’m going to teach you a few blocking moves, and then test your defense. That’ll give me and Natasha an idea of where we’re going to want to start your evening training sessions.”

Peter nodded. He was excited; every fiber of his being was practically quivering, and it made Tony smile, despite his own concern over the lesson. Peter never did anything half-assed, Tony knew. He threw himself into everything, eagerly. Especially when it had anything to do with learning something new – or with the Avengers.

The billionaire was standing to the side of the mat with Natasha, watching the two square off just a little anxiously, since Peter looked ridiculously small compared to Rogers. A fact that wasn’t lost on the others, either.

“Steve’s going to have to be careful,” Sam said, softly, from behind Tony somewhere. “Peter’s pretty _little_.”

“He’s _tough_ , though,” Bruce countered. “Besides, Steve _isn’t_ going to hurt him.”

“Not on _purpose_ ,” Clint said, and Tony could hear the concern in Hawkeye’s whisper, too. “But _look_ at him. It’s like Bob facing off against a wiener dog.”

Natasha turned and looked at Clint.

“Did you just call my sweetheart a _wiener dog_?”

His expression was innocence personified.

“ _Whaaaat_? Of course not.”

Steve winked at Peter, who smiled. They weren’t so far away from the others that they couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“I’m _not_ going to hurt you.”

“Okay.”

He wasn’t worried, and it showed. He was getting a lesson in Karate – or something else, he wasn’t sure – and he was getting it from _Captain America_. As far as _he_ was concerned, Steve could wipe the floor with him, and it would still be a tale to tell to Ned the next time he saw him.

He was attentive as Steve showed him a few basic blocking methods, running him through the motions over and over until he was sure Peter had them down. Then he took a swing at him, and Peter’s arm came up to block him, surprising both of them by just how quickly he moved.

“Very good!” Steve said, impressed.

Peter smiled, flushing with happiness.

“I felt it coming,” he explained.

“Before I swung?”

“Yeah. I knew you were going high, so it was easy.”

“Part of those tingles you get?”

They all knew about the feeling Peter would get sometimes, even though he hadn’t been able to explain what they were and where they came from.

“I think so.”

Steve glanced over at Tony, who was still looking nervous, despite the impressive block.

“I’m going to try, again, okay? With more than one attack.”

“Okay.”

That was the only warning he received, and Steve’s next attack was a flurry of blows that made Tony blanche, but never landed. Peter’s defense was awkward and painstakingly ungainly, but it was fast – and the blocks were landing exactly where they were supposed to be landing.

“Wow…”

Tony looked at Natasha, surprised by how impressed that one word had sounded.

“ _Wow_?”

She glanced over at him, for just a moment, before looking back at the lesson.

“He’s fast.”

“Steve’s slowing his attack for him.”

“Not _that_ much, though.”

Clint had stepped up, also watching.

“That’s awesome.”

“Probably spider speed, or something,” Sam added, also stepping up to stand nearer to the lesson – as if standing three feet closer was going to allow him to see something that he must have missed standing back next to Bruce. “Are there any Kung-Fu spiders that we don’t know about?”

Tony was aware they were being sincere in their praise, but it had been _one_ attack – and it didn’t make Peter Bruce Lee. Steve obviously agreed, because he put the two of them back to their starting positions, and showed Peter a couple more blocks – and one lunging attack.

“This could be interest,” Natasha said, not turning from the lesson, but clearly pleased by what she was seeing.

“I’d just like to have him back in one piece,” Tony muttered, watching as Steve went at Peter, again.

>>><><><>>> 

It turned out to not be a problem.

By the end of the lesson, Peter and Steve were both drenched with sweat, but the boy’s instructor was clearly impressed as they walked over to where Tony was still standing with Natasha. The others who had been watching had wandered off to take care of other things that the weekend was good for doing, but all of them promised to meet up after dinner for D&D.

“He did pretty well, didn’t he?” Tony asked, smiling proudly at Peter, who was so happy the billionaire thought he might spontaneously combust.

“Yeah. He’s a natural,” Steve agreed. He looked at Natasha. “We’ll want to set him up with a couple of lessons a week, to start – more when he gets more advanced.”

She nodded, looking at Tony and Peter.

“Sound good?”

Peter was quick to agree, and Tony nodded his acceptance. The more he could do to be prepared for superheroing the better, as far as Tony was concerned. Besides, it would make him feel better about him being out walking Bob alone, if the situation ever came up.

“Yes. We’ll set it up, later.”

“I’m going to go take a shower,” Steve said, reaching out and thumping Peter, playfully, on the head. “Good job.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

“We’ll see you at dinner,” Natasha said. “If not lunch.”

They were all going to be hungry, since breakfast had been somewhat sparse; the pancakes that had ended up on the table having been few and far between – and either slightly raw, or somewhat burnt.

“Sounds good,” Tony told them. He put his hand on Peter’s shoulder, still smiling as they headed out of the gym. “You were so amazing. Natasha was impressed – and that’s saying something.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You looked so good.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Come on, honey,” he said, still holding Peter’s shoulder. “ _You_ need a shower, too.”

The boy looked up at him, hopefully.

“With you?” he asked, softly, barely discernable, even though no one was there to hear him.

Tony nodded.

“Absolutely.”

Someone had to wash Peter’s back, after all.


	156. 156

They didn’t spend as much time in the shower as they might have. Peter was delectable as always – maybe even _more_ so after watching him sweat all morning – but while Tony had been sensually washing the boy’s body, his stomach had growled so loud it actually seemed to echo in the stall. Peter had blushed, but Tony had simply chuckled and kissed him.

“Plenty of time for some loving, later, honey,” he assured the boy as he began rinsing the soap from his baby. “Daddy better get his little boy fed.”

“Okay.”

They’d dried off, dressed and then gone to the lounge for lunch, but the room was pretty much empty and the two ended up working their way through their meal of burgers and fries alone. Which was fine with them both, because it afforded them the chance to spend some time together, just the two of them.

“I’m going to put the finishing touches on the campaign for tonight,” Tony told him as they cleaned up after themselves, stacking the dishes on the bar for the servers. “In my workroom. Do you want to keep me company? If you’d rather, you can always go look around and see who’s out doing something more interesting.”

Clint had taken Bob with him, so Peter didn’t have to worry about making sure the dog wasn’t bored, and there really wasn’t a lot of things that he’d rather do instead of be with Tony, so he’d gone with him. Tony had settled himself in his chair at the table; a display in front of him and a tablet at hand. Peter had then climbed into his lap, and rested his cheek on his shoulder, content to be held and to hold, listening to Tony’s heartbeat while his daddy pulled up the files for that evening.

“No _peeking_ ,” he reminded the boy, turning his head to brush a kiss against his forehead.

Peter smiled.

“No. I won’t look.” Then he remembered something from earlier. “Natasha said your name is really _Anthony_ …”

“M-hmm.” He threaded his fingers through Peter’s still slightly damp hair. “How did you not know that?”

Peter shrugged.

“Everyone calls you Tony.”

“It’s easier than Anthony.”

“Do you like it better, daddy?”

“I like them both. But when someone calls me Anthony, I think of my mother, and that I might be in trouble.”

Peter smiled at that, his hand sliding under Tony’s shirt.

“Like when my aunt used to call me Peter Benjamin… I’d know I was in trouble.”

“ _Just_ like that, honey,” Tony crooned, cuddling him. “But you can call me Anthony, if you want to.”

“No. I love calling you daddy.”

“I love that, too.”

Peter fell silent; closing his eyes and just relaxing against Tony, enjoying the sensation of being held by someone who wanted nothing more than to hold him all day if time would allow. It was so much better than being alone on the streets. He was loved, and wanted and cherished, and Tony made sure he knew it all the time.

He eventually dozed off. Not because the morning workout had worn him out – he really felt good after it, but because the ambience of the room was relaxing, and Tony’s heartbeat was hypnotizing, and he was warm and comfortable.

Tony noticed, almost immediately when Peter fell asleep on him. The kid didn’t weigh a lot to begin with, but when he was asleep, his weight seemed to double. It was like having a living breathing blanket resting in his lap. One that snored, softly in his ear and almost always left a light sheen of drool against his neck. He smiled, turned and kissed the boy’s temple once more, just to remind him – even while sleeping – that he loved him, and then brought up the last chapter of the campaign and debated which of the two creatures he was looking at was going to be the final boss at the end of the proverbial dungeon that night.

><><><>><> 

_“Your party has been on the road all day and is looking for a place to stay the night. Weary from traveling, you come to a fork in the road. In the slowing fading light of the day, you see a sign. Pointing off to the right; Stulan’s Refuge. Off to the left; Dragonsham. As far as you can tell, both roads seem the same; dirt tracked, with very little clearing on either side and trees right up to the road.”_

“Which means they could be ambush spots,” Bruce said, making sure everyone understood why Tony was describing them.

The billionaire smiled.

“ _Exactly_.” He looked at the group sitting around the table. “Where do you go?”

“We go to Dragonsham, of course,” Natasha said, moving her little metal figurine to the left.

“But there might be dragons there,” Rhodey pointed out. “Might be more dangerous for our little characters than a place that literally has the word _refuge_ in it.”

“It’s called Dungeons and Dragons,” Sam said. “Aren't we _supposed_ to be looking for dragons?”

“If you want to be _eaten_ ,” Bruce said.

“Sounds like the dragon would be exciting,” Steve put in, moving his figure to stand beside Natasha’s.

Bruce rolled his eyes at that, looking over at Peter, who shrugged, and moved his orc to stand by Steve and Natasha. Who was he to argue with Captain America and Black Widow? Besides, they were teaching him Karate. He’d die a terrible death with them if that was what they wanted from him in return.

They ended up arguing about where to go for a good five minutes, which told Tony that this was going to be a fun time, since they were all investing into the game. When they eventually ended up heading down the road to Dragonsham, he got down to business and really started throwing challenges in their path.

If they thought deciding left or right was hard, wait until they decided what kind of an attack to use on a band of goblins hell bent on eating them.

“You can’t just run at everything that steps in your way, Nat,” Bruce finally said, almost an hour later. “You have to use stealth. You, of all people, should know that.”

“I’m not going to hide from it, Bruce,” she told him. “He wants to kill my party.”

“Yeah, but-“

“While you’re arguing, one of the wyverns sees an opportunity and grabs the half-orc by his left ankle and starts dragging him into the sky,” Tony interrupted.

“Hey!” Peter had been reeling from a couple of terrible saving rolls, and his character was out of the fight. But apparently was now on the menu. “Can I roll to make them realize what’s happening?” he asked Tony.

“Nope, you’re unconscious.”

“But I was standing close by,” Sam reminded Tony. “So I could see it, right?”

Tony shrugged, smiling. “Roll to find out.”

Sam did as he was told, rolling the 20 sided die.

“Seventeen.”

Tony checked the tablet hidden on his side of the cardboard barrier.

“You notice the wyvern has grabbed your half-orc friend. Do you attack, or get everyone’s attention?”

“I attack.”

“How?”

“Oh.” He looked at his sheet. “With my _Falcon_ suit?”

Tony smirked.

“The wyvern has made it to the top of the trees while you’re being a smart-ass. Your orc-buddy is dangling upside down by his leg. He’s going to be breakfast for someone if you don’t decide.”

“I’ll shoot an arrow at it.”

“You’re out of range of anything but a longbow, by now.”

Sam’s character didn’t carry a longbow.

“I changed my mind. I’m going to call for someone else to help.”

“Roll to see if you have the presence of mind to make yourself understood, or if you’re just a blithering, babbling idiot.”

Another roll.

“Twenty.”

“You yell loud enough that the entire party hears you – and you point at the wyvern.”

“Yay!”

“So we need something long-ranged to save Peter,” Steve said, looking at his sheet.

“ _Santos_ ,” Peter corrected.

Romanoff rolled her eyes, amused.

“Santos is unconscious, remember? Hush while we try to figure out how to save you.”

Peter laughed, and stuck his sock-clad foot under Bob’s warm body, watching while the Avengers all decided how to save him from becoming Wyvern chow.

Eventually, they managed to fire off a lucky spell from Clint’s cleric that hit the small dragon in the rear, making him drop his dinner with an indignant squawk. Then, of course, they had to save him from the landing. And when that failed, Peter had to roll to see if he survived the fall.

His twelve probably wasn’t enough, but by some miracle (mainly the fact that he was sleeping with the DM) Tony told him that he got lucky and Santos’ fall was broken up by landing in a huge pile of hay.

The party of adventurers came running up to find him, Natasha’s paladin cast a heal spell on him, and they continued on their way through the dark forest.

Needless to say, it was well into the night by the time they reached their big finale – rescuing an entire hamlet from a fire breathing dragon that almost killed all of them. They accepted the accolades of the grateful villagers, a warm place to stay the night, and then divided up a lot of loot, which had them all in a good mood by the time they finished.

“This was fun,” Natasha said, carefully putting her sheet into a folder, and then gathering up the set of dice that Peter had given her at the start of the campaign. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Yeah, it really was,” Steve had to admit. “We should do it, again, sometime.”

“Sure.” Tony had enjoyed himself, as well. They’d been right about him liking the idea of being in charge of the adventure rather than joining it. Besides, it was a good way to make sure none of the babies died so young and early on, The game was far more entertaining if you weren’t constantly rerolling characters, after all. “Not _Monday_ , though,” he said, smiling over at Peter. “That’s the day he’s getting his award from the fire department.”

Peter smiled, blushing.

The call had come into Tony’s cell just before dinner – right after the older man had woken him. They’d apologized for the short notice, but had promised that the ceremony wouldn’t be anything short of spectacular.

“Are we invited?” Bruce asked, also smiling, amused that Peter was so pleased.

“I don’t see why not,” Tony replied. “I’ve been told it’s not formal, so slacks are fine – we’ll save the tuxedos for when they make him the mayor.”

They all made a few comments and then left, looking for their beds, since it really was getting late. Peter and Tony put their things behind the bar, since they were going to take Bob out, still, and the boy slid his shoes back on.

“That was a lot of fun,” he told Tony as they walked through the silent corridors.

“Yeah. I had a good time.”

They waited for Bob to sniff every tree on the edge of the field, then headed for bed.

_Tony’s_ bed, since no one was going to come looking for them too early in the morning.


	157. 157

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just smut because I was in the mood for smut :D

“How do you feel, honey?” Tony asked Peter when they reached him room.

“I’m good.” He _was_ , too. “It was a good day. Karate lessons, time with you and then D&D. I enjoyed it. It was relaxing.”

Tony nodded his agreement, pulling Peter into his arms and cuddling him.

“It was a good day, baby.” He slid his hands down the back of Peter’s jeans, cupping his ass. “Are you tired? Or can we play a little?”

The boy turned coy, looking up at him through impossibly lush lashes.

“I want to play, daddy.”

Tony ducked his head to kiss him, softly.

“Do you want anything in particular, tonight?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Because you don’t want to decide? Or because you aren’t willing to tell me?”

Peter smiled.

“I don’t want to decide. I want you to be in charge. You’re the daddy.”

God, he knew exactly how to make Tony turn into Jell-O, that was for sure. Tony hugged him close, tucking his head under his chin, his fingers going through his hair. He was going to have to take him to get a haircut before his award ceremony on Monday. Maybe they’d do that tomorrow, if there wasn’t anything too important going on at the compound. On a Sunday, it probably wouldn’t be a problem, and the spa Tony liked was open on weekends, of course.

“Then I’ll tell you what to do, tonight, baby boy,” he murmured into those curls. “Why don’t you get on your knees and get daddy hard?”

Peter nodded, and dropped to his knees in front of Tony with the ease of youth. He undid Tony’s jeans, pulling them down long with his boxers and made a pleased noise when he fished Tony’s still flaccid penis out of his pants. The older man watched, never bored by the sight of those pouty lips opening for him, and that tiny, delicate tongue sliding out to lick the head of Tony’s cock.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured, pulling his jeans a little lower to free his testicles, as well, and then brushing his fingertips along Peter’s cheek. “So sexy for daddy, aren’t you.”

The boy pulled his head back, looking up at Tony as he slurped a line of drool.

“Yes, daddy.

He turned his attention back to what he was doing, and it didn’t take too long to get Tony nicely aroused.

“That’s perfect, baby boy,” Tony said, his hand going to Peter’s hair once more to pull him off. “Let’s get you ready for bed…”

Peter got to his feet and Tony pulled his jeans back on, then simply picked him up, holding him on his hip as if he were much younger, one arm under his rear to steady him. Peter was still plenty light enough to be carried, but this was something new and Tony wanted to try it. He’d thought to wait until they were home, but it wasn’t something that was going to involve a lot of pleasured screaming, or anything, so he could get an idea of how Peter reacted, and continue at home if it was something he was willing to play.

“Okay, baby?”

He didn’t look freaked out – which was a good start. He tensed for just a moment, but then nodded, bringing his arms around Tony’s neck and his head down by his neck.

“Yes, daddy. No _diapers_ , though.”

Tony chuckled.

“No. Just some age play.”

He carried the boy into the bathroom and set him on the counter next to the sink. Then he pulled Peter’s sweatshirt and t-shirt off.

“You’re so beautiful, honey,” he whispered, leaning down a little so he could lick first one nipple, and then the other, making Peter arch his back a little to give him better access to him.

“That’s so good, daddy.”

“Yeah? You like that? My baby boy loves having daddy play with him?”

“I do. It makes me happy.”

Tony smiled at that, running his hand along Peter’s shoulder and chest.

“I want you to be happy. You know that, right?”

“I am.”

Tony kissed him.

“Let’s get your pants off.” He unbuttoned Peter’s jeans, and slid them off, but before he pulled down the green silk boxers, he leaned over and pressed his face into Peter’s groin, mouthing his erection through the fabric until it was soaked with drool and precum and Peter’s cock was straining to escape. “That’s better…” he cooed, admiring the desire in Peter’s eyes as he finally pulled his boxers off, throwing them on the floor to join the rest of his clothes.

“You, too, daddy,” Peter said, reaching for the hastily closed jeans and opening them, again so he could pull them down.

Tony slid his hand to his cock, which had gone a little soft while he’d been playing with Peter.

“I want you right here, honey,” he said, softly. “I want to bend you over the sink, and watch your reflection in the mirror while I fuck my baby.”

Peter was willing. With a shy smile, though, he held his arms out to Tony, who realized what he wanted him to do. The older man felt his cock twitch in his hand at the gesture and he smiled when he reached for the boy to pick him up and set his feet on the floor.

Without being told, Peter turned himself around, facing away from Tony and bracing his hands on the counter. With his spider abilities, he didn’t need anything more than that to hold onto, and he watched, breathlessly, as Tony’s reflection looked down at his ass, his hand sliding along the soft flesh and caressing it.

“Please, daddy…”

“Of Jesus Christ, baby,” Tony murmured, spreading Peter’s ass cheeks and sliding the head of his cock along the boy’s crease. It was so erotic to watch. Had it been anyone else, he would have just spit on his cock and shoved himself into that tight hole without any prep. Peter enjoyed the prep too much for Tony to be willing to skip over it – not to mention an added benefit to his spider healing was that the boy was always incredibly tight since the muscles Tony wrecked and ruined once would always regenerate and reform. It was like fucking his virgin ass the first time, every time. “You’re so beautiful, baby boy. So pretty for daddy.”

He opened a draw in the vanity and pulled a packet of lube, and Peter lowered his head, bringing his ass up just a little more.

“I want it, daddy,” he begged.

“Need daddy’s cock?” Tony asked him, falling into the dirty talk with comfortable ease, his lubed fingers playing with Peter’s tight hole, now, making the boy wriggle. “You love daddy being deep inside you, don’t you baby?”

“Yes,” Peter whined, pressing against his finger as Tony inserted it, teasing the boy and watching his reaction in the mirror. “Yessss, daddy… So much. Please…”

He moaned when the second finger joined the first, and Tony alternated between stretching him and teasing his prostate. Peter whined, whimpered and grunted, softly, as Tony played with him.

“So hot, honey,” Tony told him, lubing his cock, now and pressing the head against Peter’s hole. “You’re so fucking amazing, baby. Daddy’s going to make you his.”

“Please…” Peter pressed back against Tony, feeling the motion force the tip of his cock into him and the older man groaned – which was echoed by the boy.

Tony’s hips ground forward, and he slowly, almost painstakingly took Peter’s ass with a thrust that was just as amazing to both of them as it would have been had he slammed himself in with wanton abandon. He was soon hilted completely inside him, and Peter lifted his head, again, baring his neck for his daddy as he reached behind him, trying to take his hand.

“You’re okay, baby doll?” Tony asked, leaning forward and taking Peter’s hand, grinding against him and pushing his pelvis into the vanity.

His lips found Peter’s and he kissed him, hard, while they held the pose, enjoying the sight of Tony’s much larger body covering Peter so thoroughly. He guided Peter’s hand down to his own cock, silently telling the boy to lift it out of the way to avoid getting it pinched when he started thrusting – and because it was just fucking dirty to watch Peter stroking himself while Tony fucked him from behind.

“Yes. It’s so hard in me, daddy. So big. Please…”

Tony groaned and leaned back a little, reaching for a handful of Peter’s curls and using the hold to keep his head pulled back. It gave him a view of Peter’s spread legs, and through their reflection, he could see when his balls slapped into Peter’s on his next thrust, moving them forward into the vanity.

“That’s my baby,” Tony grunted. “Tell daddy how much you love getting fucked by him.”

“I do love it,” Peter said, the words ending in a grunt when Tony rammed himself into him. “Yes. _Harder_. Make me feel it down deep.”

Tony did his best to do just that. He took hold of Peter’s hips to keep from slamming him into the vanity, but his own were slamming forward, now, in abandon, driving his cock deep with each thrust, watching their reflection as he rammed into him.

“So beautiful,” he gasped. “So amazing, baby… so fucking perfect.”

Peter’s eyes were watching Tony’s in the mirror, his hand pumping his cock furiously in an echo of the same pace that Tony was using on him.

“So close, daddy…” the boy whined.

“Beautiful baby,” Tony groaned, reaching for Peter’s cock, moving the boy’s hand away and taking over, stroking him with his much larger hand while murmuring praises in his ear, “Strong, and sexy. Hard and so fucking beautiful. Perfect for your daddy.”

Peter threw his head back, arching into Tony’s grasp and came, spraying the mirror – and their reflections with his cum. Tony had been close, already, teetering on the verge of climax but more focused on prolonging his and helping Peter. The imagery of them being covered in cum was all it took to tip him over the edge, and He grunted, and tensed, hands coming to Peter’s hips once more to hold him still so he could take every inch of cock and every drop of cum as it roiled out of Tony and into his baby boy’s perfect ass.

They held still for a long moment, the reflection sharing the pose with them, and Tony finally hugged Peter from behind as he slid out of him, eyes still on the boy’s in the mirror.

“That was wonderful, honey,” he whispered, feeling Peter still trembling from his release. “You did so well.”

Peter’s smile was gentle, despite the sweat soaking his brow and sheening his body.

“It felt good, daddy.”

“Yeah, it definitely did.” He peppered his cheek with soft kisses, amorous in the after glow of their shared climax. “Let’s get cleaned up, baby,” he told Peter. “Then I’ll carry my baby to bed and cuddle the hell out of you.”

Peter smiled, turned in Tony’s arms and rested his head against his shoulder.

“Sounds perfect.”


	158. 158

“You look awfully smug…”

Tony looked up from his second cup of coffee, saw Natasha looming over him and smiled.

“Do I?”

“Good night, last night?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with good humor.

“The best. I _do_ love a good D&D campaign.”

“Uh-huh. That’s what has you looking so pleased with yourself? D&D?”

“D&D with good friends, Agent Romanoff,” Tony said in his most pompous tones. “It’s small wonder I’m feeling good.”

She smirked and sat down, looking around.

“Where _is_ your small wonder?”

“He’s out with Bob, right now. They should be back in a little while.”

Peter had fallen asleep fairly quickly once Tony had put them to bed, and had slept through the night as near as Tony could tell. Tony had played big spoon to Peter’s little spoon all night, and had woken up the next morning with his baby’s head resting on the inside of his bicep, using him as a pillow and holding his hand.

Tony had woken him with a couple of insistent kisses and had then pulled him out of bed and carried him into the bathroom to get them both ready for their day. It had been exactly what he wanted when he washed Peter in the shower, and then had dressed him, sitting him back up on the counter so the boy could watch while Tony shaved and dressed, as well.

“What do you have planned for the day?”

“Work in my shop this morning, and then I’m going to take him to the spa for a haircut before his big ceremony tomorrow. We’ll probably leave here right after lunch.”

She started to say something, but Peter came through the entrance, just then, with Bob at his side. The boy was dressed in jeans and a gray sweatshirt and the shoulders and the top of the front were wet – as was Bob.

“It’s raining,” he told them, unnecessarily, as he walked over and seated himself at the table.

“Why are you wet, though?” Tony asked, reaching out and running his fingers through Peter’s hair. It was damp, but that could have just been from the earlier shower. “You could have stood under the eaves and let Bob do his business while you waited where you could be dry.”

“That wouldn’t be fair.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but Natasha just smiled, amused.

“What’s for breakfast?” she asked.

“Breakfast burritos,” Tony answered, immediately. He’d already spoken to the cook. “And no; we aren’t making it.”

“ _Too bad_ ,” she replied, winking at Peter. “I know the others were looking forward to another crack at your pancakes.”

Peter just shook his head, far too good-natured to mind being teased. He was well aware just how badly his pancakes had turned out the previous morning.

“There’s always next weekend.”

Tony hid his smile behind a sip of coffee.

>><><><><>< 

“What are you working on?”

“Nanite tech,” Tony replied, settling himself in front of the worktable and then patting his leg in invitation. “Is there anything _you_ want to work on while we’re here?”

His workroom wasn’t just for him, anymore, after all.

“No.” Peter took him up on the invitation to cuddle and climbed into his lap, settling in with his hand pressed lightly against Tony’s groin. “Can I touch you. Daddy? Or will it distract you?”

“You can do anything that you want to, honey,” Tony assured him.

He could always look at the tech later, after all.

Peter turned just a little in Tony’s lap, so that he could see the same display that the older man was looking at. When Tony pulled up the files on the Nanite tech from his Japanese company, Peter slid his hand along the front of Tony’s slacks, feeling the vague outline of his still uninterested penis, but reading the information on the screen at the same time.

Tony realized what he was doing, and slowed his reading a little, so that Peter could read along with him, enjoying the gentle play of the boy’s fingers, while at the same time simply loving the fact that he was intelligent enough to understand what they were looking at.

“If you made your new suit out of Nanites, you could still have FRIDAY in it, right?”

“Mm-hmmm.” Tony swiped the page, pressing a kiss against Peter’s temple as he did. “It wouldn’t be the same if she wasn’t part of the design.”

Peter fell silent, engrossed in the information on the screen, although he didn’t complain if Tony switched pages before he was done reading. The tech was interesting, but he knew if he wanted, he could ask FRIDAY about it, later, when Tony was working and Peter was home doing school on a day that he didn’t have lab time with Bruce.

Instead, he spent the time caressing Tony, and occasionally brushing his tongue along the man’s neck or jaw, simply keeping him company. BY the time FRIDAY reminded Tony that it was getting close to lunch time, the billionaire’s neck and jaw were sheened with Peter’s saliva and his cock was straining painfully against his pants.

Tony turned off the display, smiling at the boy.

“You’re going to take care of this before we go to lunch, aren’t you?”

Which made Peter chuckle, and wish that he could nibble his jaw and leave a hickey. It wasn’t something that he’d done before, after all, and he suddenly liked the idea of making a mark on Tony, to tell the world that he was his own.

Of course, he _couldn’t_ do that. But it was a pleasant thought, wasn’t it? Instead, he nodded, and slid off Tony’s lap, reaching for the button.

“Yes, daddy…”

Tony just closed his eyes, enjoying the attention.

>>><><><> 

The spa was just as nice as Peter remembered it being from his first visit. The hairstylist – William – greeted him like a long time friend and ushered Peter into his chair with a flirtatious smile that even Peter knew was nothing more than just that; flirting. Tony was put in the next chair over and the two were pampered with haircuts, manicures and hot towels.

“Are you getting a massage?” William asked the boy, as he was finishing his hair cut. He made a show of running his fingers along Peter’s somewhat boney shoulders, kneading the muscles and winking at his reflection in the mirror. “The massages are to die for,” he added. “I get one twice a week… nothing beats stripping down and letting someone run their hands-“

“William…” Tony warned from the next chair over, not even opening his eyes, and Peter saw that there was a slight smile on the billionaire’s face. “He doesn’t want a massage.”

Peter grinned, and shrugged, but Tony was right, really. The _last_ thing Peter wanted was to strip down in front of someone that he didn’t know and get a massage from them.

He _did_ wonder, though, as the stylist rolled his eyes, expansively, mocking Tony’s prudish behavior – much to Peter’s amusement – if Tony was any good at giving massages, because it might be something that he’d enjoy.

If he was with the right person.


	159. 159

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay on this!

Tony couldn’t take Monday off. There were too many meetings and there was too much that needed his attention – even with the considerable assistance of Pepper Potts, who handled his company so much better than he did, he knew. Peter and Bob went with him to the tower. Peter had school, which kept him preoccupied at his desk for most of the morning, but his eyes lit up any time Tony (or Pepper) would mention the ceremony that afternoon, and he was dressed in slacks and a button down shirt in deference to the fact that Tony pointed out that there would be a lot of official pictures being taken.

The mayor’s office called Tony to make sure they had all the final details, and Peter finished his last assignment just as the billionaire hung up the phone.

“So, we’re going to be at a fire house,” Tony said. “Just like Pepper suspected.” He rolled his eyes at the thought of being forced to say she was right – which made Peter smile. “There will be the usual press, and the city official will make a speech and hand you a plaque – which you don’t take from him, right away. You have to reach for it and hold onto your side while he or she holds the other side and smiles for the camera.”

“Okay.”

“And try to look properly humble,” Tony added. “I like to practice in the mirror – because it’s one of the few things I’m not very good at.”

Peter grinned.

“Then there will be a tour of the fire house, and a small reception; finger foods, light alcohol and a lot of standing around and talking to other important city officials. Then we go home.”

“Sound fun.”

“It isn’t, _usually_ ,” Tony assured him. “But this one will be, because it’s about _you_. Steve and some of the others want to come.”

“Yeah.”

“But… they don’t want their presence there to overshadow your big day.”

“It’s not _that_ big of a day,” Peter pointed out. “I’d like it if they were there.”

“The press will have a field day with it,” Tony told him, sitting on the edge of Peter’s desk and enjoying the excited expression on the boy’s face. “They love it when the Avengers come to their little shindigs.”

Peter nodded, although Tony knew he didn’t really understand. That was fine, though. Peter was still young enough to enjoy the attention, and _Tony_ was going to enjoy watching Peter have a good time.

“Done?” he asked, gesturing to the display in front of Peter.

“Yes.”

“FRIDAY? How did he do?”

_“All assignments are done properly and without error.”_

“Stop _gushing_ , teacher. His head will get so big, he won’t be able to fit a fireman’s hat on it.” He winked at Peter and moved to the sofa, sitting down and patting his lap. “Come spend time with me, honey,” he suggested. “You’re dressed too nicely for any real recess shenanigans, but I’d still like to hold you for a while, if you’re willing.”

Peter was always willing, though, and the boy slid into his lap, easily, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder and putting his arms loosely around him, under the suit jacket that Tony was wearing.

“Are you having a good day, daddy?” he asked, softly.

Tony hadn’t been in his office much, really. Peter had taken a break to walk Bob, and instead of being able to go with him, Tony had suggested one of the security guards from the lobby (who was really a SHIELD agent assigned to Tony) walk with Peter – just to keep the mayor’s people from ambushing him, Tony had said.

“It’s busy,” he admitted, burying his face in Peter’s new haircut and breathing deeply, smelling coconut shampoo and the body wash that Peter liked so well. He’d washed the boy with it, himself, that morning. “There’s always a meeting on Mondays. What did you learn about today?”

“Light waves and planets. Not at the same time.”

They spent almost twenty minutes on the couch, just connecting with each other about their morning, and then went and had lunch in the executive dining room before going to Tony’s work room and spending the rest of the time before the ceremony working on the first prototype of Tony’s nanotech suit.

>>><><><>> 

It was impossible to not make a flashy entrance when with Tony Stark, Peter knew. If you didn’t arrive in a limo being driven by Happy, you were going to show up in one of Tony’s expensive cars – all of which were stylish, flashy and expensive. Really, Peter thought, looking at the small crowd of people who were watching them get out of the back of the car (with Pepper), Tony could be stepping off a subway car at the train station and it would still somehow be a flashy entrance.

He was just that good with a crowd.

The guy from the Mayor’s office stepped up to meet them, first, and after introductions, Pepper told Tony and Peter that she was going to go look around the fire station, but she would see them, soon. Peter understood this to mean that she was there to see him get his award – which was nice of her – but she didn’t want to have to deal with the technicalities of it. That was Tony’s job.

Peter felt a little guilty for that, because he knew that Tony would have preferred to be working on the new suit, really, even though he hadn’t said anything when FRIDAY had reminded them of the time and that Happy would be there to get them soon. Tony hadn’t complained, though, and the PR guy ran them through the ceremony – which was almost exactly how Tony had told him it was going to be.

He’d been introduced to the fire chief – which had been neat – and then the man walked him and Tony through the fire station, introducing them to the firemen (and women) and smiling when Peter had asked where their Dalmatian was.

“We don’t all have one,” he’d been told, making the others smile, too.

When the tour was over, they were taken to a large room in the fire station, which was converted just then into two spaces. There were several people from the press there (Tony told Peter that the media had found out what was going on and that because of Peter’s age, they would almost certainly jump on the chance for a good human interest story. Which meant a lot of press coverage). He’d been right.

There were some important officials from the city government (drawn there by the press, of course) and best of all, Natasha, Steve, Sam and Rhodey were present. They all watched as the Mayor’s office representative made a speech about how the youth of today could benefit from a role model like Peter Parker, who had selflessly risked his life to save two people, despite the burning cab, and had then presented Peter with a plaque, holding one side while Peter held the other, letting the press take their photos and videos.

Then the fire chief had given Peter a fire hat and announced him an official honorary fireman – and there had been more photos.

After, they were told to enjoy the reception, and the crowds split up just a little, with members of the media walking freely through the small crowd, talking to the guests – and especially the Avengers.

“You look so handsome,” Natasha told him, coming over with a drink in her hand. “But where’s Bob? I can’t believe you didn’t let him be in the photos.”

Peter smiled, as Tony excused himself to go to the bathroom, knowing no one would mess with the boy with Romanoff standing beside him.

“He’s at Monica’s.” He was distracted by a couple of reporters who had cornered Steve and were trying to interview him. Peter had exceptional hearing, and had no problem listening in on the conversation, which was basically the reporters asking Captain America what he thought of the current state of affairs.

“They’re trying to corner him into a newsworthy soundbite,” Natasha explained. “Something they can use for their own agendas.”

“Oh. Do they do it a lot?”

“With Steve? All the time. Everyone wants to be able to say Captain America agrees with their opinion, right? He’s too smart for them, though. He’ll spin them in circles until they’re reeling, and then he’ll pat them on the head and send them on their way with his big, warm smile.”

Peter laughed, and noticed Tony returning to the room from the direction of the bathroom. And saw a woman news reporter (one famous enough that even _Peter_ knew who she was) stop him about halfway across the room. She hooked her arm through Tony’s, and brushed a kiss against his cheek.

Tony smiled and his arm went around her waist – which was probably perfectly innocent, Peter knew.

“Where have you been, Tony?” she asked, affecting petulance. “We’ve missed seeing you around.”

Peter knew eavesdropping was wrong – especially with someone he cared about – but he didn’t miss Tony’s reply, or the fact that the older man’s gaze went from the pretty woman to look his direction.

“I’ve had other responsibilities to think about, Barb.”

_She_ looked toward Peter, too, and the boy turned away to look at Natasha, trying not to hear the conversation, but unable to avoid it. So he didn’t miss her reply – and she didn’t keep her voice down, anyway.

“Find a babysitter for the kid and come out to Nancy’s party on Friday. We’d love to see you, again. Spend some time with us grownups for a change.”

Tony hadn’t missed the way Peter looked away – and he knew there was nothing wrong with his hearing. He frowned when he saw Peter’s shoulders lower and his head droop, just enough for him to know that he’d heard her. He turned back to the woman, even as he saw Natasha’s arm going around Peter’s bony shoulders, and her lean down to say something. He didn’t know if Romanoff heard what had been said (probably not) but she’d noticed Peter’s reaction and was immediately in protective mode with him.

So was the billionaire.

“The kid has a name, Barb. It’s Peter. He doesn’t need a babysitter – unlike some adults who can’t keep their mouths shut when they should.”

She scowled, prettily, annoyed.

“No need to get in a huff, Tony. Jesus. Just-“

“Just _stop_ ,” Tony interrupted. “You’re supposed to be here because of Peter, not to pester me. Write his story and put him on the news. Make him famous.”

“Maybe I make him look like a child who-“

“He’d better come out of this looking like he needs a halo,” Tony said, interrupting again. “Because if your story doesn't make him shine, I’m going to buy your network and toss you out so fast that there’ll be skid marks on that bony ass of yours. Got me?”

She huffed and turned on her heel, walking away in a snit – but Tony knew he’d made his point. When he looked back for Peter, though, he and Natasha were both gone.

“Shit.”


	160. 160

Natasha didn’t know what had happened. She hadn’t missed Peter’s eyes watching Tony talk to the news reporter, but was pretty sure that the boy could see the irritation on the billionaire’s expression – a sure indication that he didn’t want to be where he was just then. _She_ could see it, after all, and Peter knew Tony’s moods as well as Romanoff did, by then. She glanced at Tony, and then saw Peter’s expression fall, and wondered what _he’d_ heard that she hadn’t been able to.

Automatically, she took his arm and moved him away from whatever it was that was upsetting him, taking him into a small locker room off to side of the main reception area and turned him toward her when she had closed the door behind them.

“What happened?” she asked. “What did he say?”

Peter shook his head.

“Nothing. Nothing _bad_ , anyway.”

He’d been incredibly sweet, and Peter had heard him jump to Peter’s defense, immediately.

“What did _she_ say, then?”

He shook his head, again, looking away.

“Nothing.”

Romanoff frowned, knowing that he wasn’t being honest with her – obviously. No worries, really, since she was more than up to the challenge of interrogating a sixteen-year-old boy. Even one that could walk up walls.

“Peter…” She made sure to modulate her tone, so it wasn’t threatening him – something that she’d never to do him. Natasha was well and truly fond of the boy and wouldn’t dream of trying to bully him. But that also made her unwilling to let it – whatever _it_ was – lie. She reached out and cupped his chin in her hand, bringing his gaze back up to meet her own. “Tell me.”

“She invited Tony to a party,” he replied, evasively.

“And…?”

There was no way that was all of it. Not with the uncertainty in his expressive brown eyes.

“And told him to get me a baby-sitter…”

“That _bitch_.”

Peter could hear the genuine anger in Natasha’s voice, and he loved her for it. But it didn’t make the comment hurt any less – or sting because the statement fed on Peter’s own very real insecurities. He was so much younger than Tony, after all. A sixteen-year-old ball and chain keeping him from being able to go to those fancy parties – probably like the one she’d invited him to go to on Friday. Tony had said he didn’t like going to them, and would rather spend time with Peter, but Peter was well aware than he wasn’t as interesting as a room full of famous or rich people.

It was only a matter of time before _Tony_ realized it, too.

“It’s okay,” he said, shrugging, trying to keep his voice steady. “I mean… I _am_ young.”

“She had no right to say that.”

“Tony stood up for me.”

“Good.” Romanoff hugged him, unable to stop herself; he looked that sad. “She doesn’t know you like _we_ do, Peter Parker,” she reminded him. “Has she saved people? No. She sits behind a news desk and reads a prompter. We know better. She _reads_ the news – but _you_ make it.”

He smiled at that, sniffing because he couldn’t help the fact that his nose was suddenly running and his eyes were stinging. Peter needed a hug and she was there to give him one. Never mind that it was _Black Widow_ hugging him and trying to make him feel better (which was as crazy as always) but it was a _person_ , who genuinely cared about him and his feelings.

Peter appreciated it.

“Thanks, Natasha…”

“You’re wel-“ Before she could finish the words, the door to the locker room opened and Tony was suddenly there, his eyes worried as he walked across the small room. Natasha squeezed Peter, tightly, for a moment before she stepped away, ready to allow Tony the room needed to reassure Peter. “I’m going back to the reception.”

Tony nodded, but his attention was fully on Peter.

“You heard what she said?”

The boy nodded.

“I wasn’t trying to listen in…”

“I know, honey.” He touched his hair. “She didn’t mean it.”

Peter shook his head, mournfully.

“Yes, she did. It’s okay, though. I know I’m _young_.”

“Not _that_ young. You _don’t_ need a baby-sitter, Peter.”

“No. I know. Thank you for saying that to her.”

Tony scowled, remembering how annoyed he’d been with her.

“I shouldn’t have _had_ to, though. Do you want me to make her apologize?”

Peter shook his head, knowing that Tony might try to do just that. It wasn’t necessary.

“No. I’m sorry I overreacted. It just… I was… you should go back to the party.”

As informal as it was, it was probably the first chance that Tony had had to hang out with grownups since meeting Peter. He didn’t want him to miss out on any fun to be had.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready,” Tony told him, reaching for him – but Peter backed up, away from his embrace, shaking his head.

“Someone might come in and see us,” he said.

It was fine if someone walked in on _Natasha_ hugging him; she was a woman, and so far out of Peter’s league that they would assume, automatically, that she was mothering him. _Tony_ was out of his league, too, Peter knew, but it would look odd for _him_ to be holding Peter.

“I don’t mind,” Tony assured him.

“I _do_.  It’s okay, Tony,” he said, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his dress shirt. “I’m alright. _Really_. Let’s go back to the reception.”

“We can go home.”

“When it’s over.”

“Whenever you want.”

He smiled, straightening his shoulders a little, and lifting his chin.

“I want to stay a little longer. The fire chief mentioned they might take me for a ride on a firetruck.”

He headed for the door, and Tony sighed, but followed him out – back into the small party.

>><><><><>> 

For a press reception, it lasted much later into the evening than expected.

The reason was obvious, though. Not only was Tony Stark present, but Steve, Natasha, Rhodey and Sam were all there, as well and no one was in any hurry to leave such awesome company.

They were used to the attention, of course, and were pretty much expecting it, but all of them brushed aside any mention of the Avengers when it was brought up, reminding the person speaking to them that they weren’t at the fire station in any kind of formal capacity and that the day was supposed to be for Peter – and _only_ for Peter.

The guest of honor was handling the recognition fairly well, the press was quick to note. Especially given his tender years. _So young_ tended to be the first thing anyone who wasn’t an Avenger said about Peter when they were discussing him, which made Tony cringe inside every time he heard it – and made Romanoff scowl.

Peter didn’t cry, again, no matter how many times he heard the phrase, but his eyes were troubled and everyone who knew him noticed, but when any of the others asked him about it, he’d just shake his head and tell them that he was fine, and it had just been a long weekend and maybe he was tired.

Tony finally decided they’d had enough celebrating, and came up to steal the boy from Natasha, who had been pretty much glued to his side all evening.

“I’m tired, Peter. Are you ready to leave, yet?”

He nodded, accepting a warm hug from Natasha before he stepped from her side to walk with Tony. They didn’t leave immediately, of course, because they still had to say goodbye to everyone, but it wasn’t too long before they were waiting for Happy to pull up to the curb.

“Hey guys,” the driver said, cheerfully, opening the door for them. “How was the evening?”

“It was great,” Peter told him, forcing a cheerful tone and smile, and showing Happy his plaque and his new firefighter hat – which he ooh-ed over with just the right amount of interest.

“Need to stop anywhere?” Happy asked Tony as the billionaire finally ushered Peter into the back of the car.

“Nope. Just home, thanks.”

The moment the car door was closed Peter crawled into Tony's lap, head going to his shoulder and hands sliding around him. He wasn’t looking for affection just then, though, Tony knew. The boy’s touch and mannerism was just a little too edgy for that to be what he wanted. He was looking for comfort – and Tony was willing to supply it, of course.

“It’s okay, honey,” the older man crooned, pressing his lips against Peter’s temple. “I’m here.”

“Thank you…” the reply was subdued, and Tony hugged Peter, tighter.

“What’s wrong, Peter?” he asked, softly. “You can’t _possibly_ care that everyone said you were young…”

He _was_ , after all. It wasn’t anything to be upset about.

“No. I don’t mind.” He _was_ , after all. He was silent for a long few minutes, watching the buildings go by outside the darkly tinted windows. Finally, though, he spoke, but he didn’t lift his head from where it was resting on Tony’s shoulder. “You should go to Nancy’s party…” he told Tony. “It’d probably be fun for you.”


	161. 161

Tony frowned at the softly spoken words, certain that he couldn’t have heard him correctly.

“What?”

“I said, _you should go to that party_ ,” Peter repeated.

“Why would I want to do that?”

“To be able to spend time with other _adults_ ,” Peter said, sticking his nose into Tony’s neck, more than aware of the fact that he wasn’t even old enough to _drive_ , much less get dressed up and go with Tony to a dinner party. “You stay home, hanging out with me… you never get to have fun.”

“I have plenty of fun, honey.”

“Not with adults.”

“What do you call the _Avengers_?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I _do_ ,” he agreed. “But you’re wrong. Spending time with you is just right for me. I don’t _need_ a party. A hundred of them aren’t going to give me the enjoyment being with you, just the two of us, does.”

“Watching movies is more entertaining than going to a party?” he asked, just brushing up against sarcasm.

Enough that Tony felt a stirring of annoyance. The kid was going to drive him insane.

“Watching a movie, with you in my arms? Yes. I’d take that over a cocktail party any day of the week.”

“It isn’t fair to you to have to stay home with me when you can be out enjoying yourself.”

“I don’t have to stay home with you, honey,” Tony pointed out. “I do that because I want to. I-“

“You could be going to parties every night, if you wanted. I bet.”

“Yes. But – _again_ – why would I _want_ to? Look. it’s not something you need to worry about. I told you how I feel about those parties.”

“But-“

“Peter,” Tony’s voice sounded annoyed, and the boy didn’t look to see if his expression matched the tone. “I don’t want to talk about this, alright? Have I done or said _anything_ to make you think I’m not happy with the way things are, right now?”

“No.”

“Then drop it, okay?”

“I just don’t want you to feel you’re stuck with me,” Peter said, softly.

“I’m not. Now hush.”

He wasn’t convinced, Tony could tell by the tenseness in Peter’s lean body where he was pressed against him, but he didn’t argue, either, and that was a start. The problem was; Peter _was_ young. And with that youth came uncertainty. No matter how much Tony tried to bolster him. It was one of those things that only time was going to be able to fix, because that was how Peter would gain confidence.

“I love you…” Tony murmured, turning his head and burying his face into the boy’s hair while his hand rubbed Peter’s back, soothingly.

Peter sniffed, his arms tightening around Tony.

“I love you, too.”

>>><><><> 

The drive home wasn’t a long one, and they were soon at the garage.

“Tomorrow, boss?” he asked, getting out of the car, but noting that Tony had already opened the door for themselves.

“Yeah. We’ll see you then.”

Peter was in the lab with Bruce tomorrow after lunch, so he’d be joining Tony at the tower.

Which was only a good thing, Tony thought, watching the boy gather his fireman hat and plaque and get out of the car, waving a thank you to Happy. He didn’t want Peter sitting around the apartment, brooding. Better that he keep him occupied for the next few days.

“Let’s get Bob and take him for a walk and then call it a night,” Tony said to Peter as they stopped in the apartment to drop off the hat and plaque in Peter’s bedroom. “I’m tired.”

Yet another sure indicator that he had moved on from those crazy nights of his younger self, when he could stay up all night, after tinkering in his workshop all day. A quiet night at home was just the thing for him, now.

He just needed to make Peter understand, he supposed.

“Me, too,” Peter agreed.

Tony reached for his hand, though, as they walked back to the elevator, and he pressed a kiss against his palm.

“Don’t worry about this party thing, baby boy. Okay?”

Peter blushed, slightly, and nodded, but Tony could see that his expression was still troubled.

><><><>>< 

Monica was cheerful when she opened the door to Peter’s knock and invited them into her apartment. She wasn’t about to allow them to leave without telling her all about Peter’s ceremony, so she plied them with fresh peanut butter cookies, hot chocolate (for Peter, Tony had coffee) and peppered them with questions about who had been there, what had happened and everything else.

Peter settled himself on the floor by her sofa, between Bob and Boomer, lavishing the dogs with attention while he and Tony told her about the ceremony and the reception afterward. Since Tony was sitting on the couch, he pulled his phone out to show the woman a picture that he’d taken of Peter being handed the plaque, with a promise from Peter to bring it down to show it to her the next day – along with his new hat.

She sent them off with their dog – who had already been walked – a dozen more cookies (because Peter was a growing boy and needed them) and a request for dog-sitting services over the weekend, since she needed to visit an ailing friend who was allergic to Boomer.

Peter had been more than willing to do just that, and she assured the boy that she trusted him completely with her sweet angel.

“Her _sweet angel_ who could chew a guy’s leg off like a piranha,” Tony said on the elevator back to the apartment.

The boy chuckled at that, and Tony was glad that they’d spent time with the older woman, because it seemed to have cheered Peter, considerably.

“He only looks tough.”

Which was true, to a point. Tony had a feeling that Boomer was pretty tough if he needed to be.

“Are you hungry, at all?” he asked as they reentered the apartment.

The reception had provided finger foods, but there had been a lot, and Tony had grazed his way through the offerings more than once, and wasn’t really in the mood for a real dinner.

“Not really,” Peter admitted.

He’d eaten a dozen cookies at Monica’s, and even if had been hungry before, he certainly wasn’t, then.

“Then I say we skip dinner, altogether,” Tony said, settling on the sofa with a sigh, and aware that he and Peter still needed to talk. “Come cuddle with me, honey. I need you in my lap.”

Peter climbed into Tony’s arms, and the older man slid his hands under his sweatshirt, not groping him, simply touching him and reminding him that he was much loved and wanted.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you, in the car…” he murmured.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, too.”

“You’re _perfect_ , you know?” Tony said, guiding his head to Tony’s shoulder. “I love that you’re young. I don’t want you to feel bad about yourself because of your age. I _only_ wish you were older so I could shout to the world how much I love you, instead of hiding it like we have to.”

Peter slid his hand under Tony’s shirt, returning the caresses that he was being given.

“I _still_ think you should go to that party…” he said.

“Jesus, Peter…”

“I’m just saying. You should spend time with grown ups, too. To remind yourself that there are other things you can be doing besides amusement parks and movies.”

“If I promise to go will you drop this whole age thing?” Tony asked. “And allow me a quiet night with my baby?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “I’d love to see you dressed in a tuxedo.”

“Well, you will.” Tony kissed him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Does the daddy thing bother you?” Tony asked, trying to school his expression. “I mean, it’s a reminder that you’re younger than I am. If you don’t want-“

“I love the daddy thing,” Peter assured him, interrupting, even though he knew it was rude. “I want to be your baby. I want you to be my daddy. I just wish I were eighteen. Or twenty-one.”

“It’s only a little while, baby boy…” Tony promised him. “You’ll see.”


	162. 162

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up about my schedule being a little wonky for a while. I'm still here, though, so don't worry!

Peter spent part of the evening with Tony buried inside him as they watched a movie. He had wanted to try the cock warming thing, again, only this time more intimately than sucking on Tony, and when he’d crawled into Tony’s lap when the movie started, he silently handed him the lube, blushing and tucking his face into the older man’s neck.

“What are you thinking, baby boy?” Tony asked him, sliding his hand along Peter’s rear, his hand under his jeans.

“I want you to…” he closed his eyes to make it dark. “To be inside me. And _stay_ there.”

“You want to try the cock warming thing, again?”

Peter nodded.

“Yes, daddy. If you _want_ to, that is…?” he added.

Tony used a couple of fingers to bring his head around and he kissed him, soundly, until they were both breathless and Peter was hitching his hips, gently against his groin.

“Yes, I think I can be talked into it,” he said with a tender smile, finally pulling away. “Get naked for me, honey.”

The boy did as he was told, getting out of Tony’s lap long enough to undress – and long enough for Tony to, as well. Then he climbed back into Tony’s lap – but the older man wasn’t going to slide into him until he’d had his ass played with and had been properly stretched. He shifted Peter in his lap to give himself perfect access, lubed his fingers and nuzzled his lips against the boy’s neck, whispering praises into his tender skin as he teased his tight hole with knowledgeable fingers until Peter was writhing in pleasure from both the praise and the touch.

Tony’s slick fingers found the boy’s cock, pumping him, expertly, wonderfully, as he locked onto Peter’s beautiful eyes.

“Cum for me, honey,” he crooned. “So wonderful and hard for daddy… get us messy, baby. I want you to cum all over us… you can do that, right? So brave. So perfect. So-“

Peter moaned and climaxed, his cock tightening in Tony’s grasp and his hips jerking frantically into his touch. Ropes of cum splattered Tony’s hand and belly, which was immediately smeared into Peter’s when the boy collapsed against Tony, head going to his shoulder as he clung to him, trembling.

“So perfect for me,” Tony cooed, one hand holding Peter’s body and lifting him, just enough, while the other guided his aching cock to Peter’s hole and nudged against the entrance. “You’re so amazing, baby.”

He lowered Peter down on him, feeling the trailing end of the boy’s climax making his insides twitch and squeeze, which only added to the enjoyable sensations he was feeling as he impaled Peter.

 

Peter groaned at the invasion, leaning back just a little to settle Tony right how he wanted him, and then kissing him.

“That was good, daddy,” he murmured, feeling that perfect euphoria overcoming him as he settled his head back onto Tony’s shoulder, now filled completely by the older man.

“Yeah?” Tony hitched his hips a couple of times, experimentally, and then settled, as well. “You’re so obedient, honey,” he said, reaching for the blanket to pull over them, making sure his baby didn’t get chilled. “Coming for daddy on demand like that.”

“You make it easy,” Peter said, turning just a little as Tony turned on the TV and started a movie. “You know what I like.”

Tony smiled at that, and cuddled Peter, close, pressing another kiss against him temple.

“I know what I like, too,” he said. “And this is definitely it.” How could the boy _possibly_ think he’d rather be at a party with a group of suck ups rather than right where he was, just then? For a kid as smart as Peter was, he was way too uncertain about his worth. Tony was going to have to fix that. _Later_. “Are you comfortable? Warm enough? I’m not hurting you?”

“Feels good.”

“Make sure you tell me if that changes, or if you need anything.”

“I will.”

>>><><><><<> 

They watched the movie, but Tony couldn’t have told anyone how it ended. Or many of the main plot lines.

Peter wasn’t as good at being an anal cock warmer as he was with the oral. He tried to keep himself still, but having Tony inside him put pressure on all those places inside him that he enjoyed having touched – and he would grind his hips, slowly, enjoying the way it felt – and Tony would tense as the motion also affected him, of course. Then Peter would still for a bit; a few minutes, or even ten or fifteen, and grind, again.

By the time the movie was over, Tony was solidly hard inside his baby, and he didn’t even bother taking him to bed to finish. Moving his hands to Peter’s hips, he supported the lean body as Peter rode him; bouncing, grinding sometimes simply dropping himself down onto Tony’s cock, moaning so wonderfully at the sensations that Tony was pushed to the edge quickly.

He drove upward, climaxing in a rush with Peter holding him, tightly, whispering daddy, repeatedly, in his ear while Tony emptied into him with a series of thrusts and a hold on Peter’s hips that wasn’t loosening any time soon.

“Jesus, baby, you’re so amazing,” he finally gasped, shuddering under the boy’s negligible weight.

Peter responded by holding him, tighter, careful not to hurt him with his superior strength, but needing the touch as he always did.

“ _That_ was amazing…”

Tony chuckled, peppering Peter’s face with butterfly kisses as they both began to relax, and he almost regretfully lifted Peter enough to slide out of him before he cuddled the boy back into his lap.

“Which way do you like better?” he asked, curiously. “With your perfect mouth or with your perfect ass?”

“They’re both good,” Peter told him, head once more going to his shoulder. “I think I like sucking you more, because I could concentrate more on _you_ and not on me.”

“Some guys would agree with you that cock warming is supposed to be about them and _only_ them,” Tony told him. “But it’s not – as far as I’m concerned. You should enjoy it, too.”

“You liked this way, better?”

“I enjoy them both,” he replied. “Like you did.” How could he _not_? “But I love watching you grind down on me.”

Peter blushed, smiling, and Tony felt his hold tighten for just a moment in acknowledgement. Then he loosened his grip and kissed the older man’s neck, wishing that he could give him a hickey – just to say that he’d done it, once. He started to mention that, thinking that maybe he could give him one somewhere else – someplace that wasn’t visible – but his stomach growled, unexpectedly, and Tony chuckled.

“Hungry?”

“A _little_.”

“Let’s get a snack and take it to bed with us.”

“Yeah.”


	163. 163

“Why do you look grumpy?”

Tony scowled.

“I don’t look grumpy.”

Pepper shrugged, and turned her attention back to the display on her desk, ignoring the billionaire sitting in the chair across from her for a moment, in order to finish the information she’d been looking through before Tony had walked into her office a moment before.

Then she looked up, again, not surprised that he was still there.

“Well?”

“Peter’s being stubborn.”

She smirked.

“He lives with _you_. Why is that a surprise?”

Of course that close proximity to Tony Stark was going to make some of the man’s less charming characteristics rub off. (Then to, the boy was absolutely adorable and sweet, and she wasn’t sure if he naturally was, or if those traits had rubbed off, as well.)

Stark scowled, again.

“You’re not helping, Pepper.”

“Is he in your office?”

“Doing schoolwork,” Tony confirmed.

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s a _genius_. He probably doesn’t need me, or FRIDAY to get him through the work. We’re just window dressing.”

Pepper smiled at that, because while the words were grumpy, his expression and tone were anything but. Tony was clearly pleased and proud, which was a fine change from his usual mannerisms.

“The award ceremony went well.” No aliens attacking to interrupt, no drunken Tony Stark to distract. It was a PR dream. “Did you see any of the stories that covered it? Barb Hale’s exposition was particularly glowing. Peter came out looking like he should be wearing an Ironman suit and righting all the wrongs in the city.”

“ _Pewter_ man, maybe,” Tony said, filing that away so he’d remember to take a look at it, later. “Don’t even get me started on that woman, though.”

“Why? Is she trying to get with you, again?”

Pepper clearly wasn’t sympathetic to Tony being much sought after by the higher society, and he didn’t blame her. He’d been pretty fast and easy, before, and she’d had to deal with the aftermath of torrid affairs more than once.

“She made a comment about getting a baby-sitter for Peter so I could go to some party on Friday with grown ups.”

“Oh. Tell me he wasn’t close enough to hear it?”

“He was.”

“Oh. Poor guy. Is he alright?”

Sixteen was a fragile age – or a _rebellious_ one, depending on the youngster. Peter had her pegged as more fragile than most – but she knew that that was probably because she’d seen him at his most breakable; being homeless and recovering from injury.

“No. I told you; he’s being _stubborn_.”

“How?”

“He agrees with _Barb_. He wants me to get dressed up and go out to this party – because I don’t spend any time with adults, anymore. He thinks that he’s keeping me from having the social life I want to have.”

She smiled.

“Well, when is the last time you went to a party? It was before you found him, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, _months_.”

Had he really only known Peter a couple of months? It seemed like forever.

“I don’t want to go to the party, but he keeps _bringing_ it up.”

They’d woken in each other’s arms, a tangle of limbs and nothing between their two bodies but maybe a neutrino or two. Certainly nothing to stop Tony from stroking the boy into arousal and sucking him off before they’d been forced out of bed by Bob wanting his walk. They’d both dressed and gone out, and there were a few people (reporters from networks or papers who had somehow missed the blurb about the firefighter ceremony – or hadn’t thought it worth their time to cover) waiting near the building, clearly watching for Peter – or Tony – so they could ask some questions and get their own soundbites or quotes.

Peter had handled it well, although he’d made sure (probably subconsciously) to keep Bob’s considerable bulk between himself and any of the reporters who were firing questions at him. Tony had been affable, but had only allowed a question or two from the less dickish of them before he’d reminded them all that they were walking, and Bob wasn’t going to wait for their questions before he took a crap.

Then Peter had asked Tony where he kept his tuxedo, which had brought up the party – and had made the billionaire attempt to get out of the promise that he’d made the evening before. Those stupid absofuckinglutely adorable eyes had bored into his own, and the boy had reminded him that he’d said he was going to go.

“Well? Are you going?”

“Yes. I _have_ to – because I promised him last night that I would.”

She smirked. There was a time that a promise didn’t mean that much to him – and it wasn’t that long ago. Peter really _was_ rubbing off on the man.

“Good. Try not to be an asshole to anyone, will you? Believe it or not, having Peter staying with you is driving up our stocks. You were right about the foster care thing softening your image – even if it didn’t turn out with you becoming a foster parent to him. The shareholders are happy, and we have more companies than ever beating down our doors looking for mergers.”

“Well…” he looked at her, hopefully. “One way to make sure I’m not an asshole…”

She frowned, and realized what he wanted.

“No.”

“Come _on_ , Pep. You _can’t_ be busy Friday night.”

“Because I don’t have a social life?” she asked, indignantly. “Maybe I _do_ , Tony. Did it occur to you that maybe I have some plans for Friday that don’t include hanging out with my boss and 100 of the snobbiest snobs in the city?”

“It’ll keep the singles away from me if you come with me.”

“Because you don’t want to bring one home with Peter at your apartment? Have him stay at the compound on Friday. Then you’ll have the place to yourself and whatever floozy you want to bring home. I imagine your love life has been suffering having a teenager living with you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my love life.” That was an understatement. “I just don’t want to seem available.”

“Everyone knows that you _are_.”

“Are you going to come with me, or am I going to go unattended and get drunk and cause a scene?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Fine. Pick me up at seven and don’t be late – and if you get drunk and cause a scene with me there, I swear to God your next date will be Peter Parker. Got it?”

He smiled.

“You’re a lifesaver. And I don’t mean the little candy.”

Pepper scowled, and waved him away.

“Go find something to do, will you? I’m busy.”

“It’s formal,” he said, getting to his feet, and brushing a hand along his sleeve.

“Of course, it is.”

Tony left, and headed back to his office – and Peter (and Bob) feeling pretty impressed with himself. Pepper would keep him from being hit on – and of course he didn’t need or want to take anyone home with him (although she didn’t know the exact reason why, naturally. She might even be able to keep him out of trouble.

Peter looked up from his display when he walked in and smiled, automatically, because Tony was. Closing the door behind him, the billionaire walked over, and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, presumably to look at the display and see what he was working on, but really just to have a chance to touch him.

“Hi, honey,” how’s it going?”

“It’s geography,” Peter said, shrugging. “Nothing too hard. You look pretty cheerful. Did you go look at the new suit you’re working on?”

“No. Not yet. I thought I’d work on it while you were working with Bruce, and then you can pick my brain about all that I did tonight over dinner and Scrabble, or something.”

Peter smiled, leaning his cheek against Tony’s chest for a moment.

“That sounds great.”

“I was in Pepper’s office, convincing her that I need a date for this party, Friday – to look less available and keep people from hitting on me. She finally agreed to go with me. Are you aright with that?”

“You’re asking _me_?”

Tony nodded.

“Of course. It’s not a real date – and she and I aren’t interested in each other, sexually, but it’s probably going to look like it to others, and I don’t want you to be hurt if you see any pictures of us on the web, or TV or anything. If you’d rather I went stag, I _will_.”

“Oh.” Peter shook his head. “No. It’s okay. Thanks.”

Tony brushed a kiss against his temple.

“Of course, you’ll have Bob and Boomer to keep you company. Why don’t you see if Ned wants to come over Friday night, too?”

Peter’s eyes lit up at the thought.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Why not? I’ll expect you to stay out of the bar, of course, and he doesn’t get near your Spider suit or the Mark 24.”

“Yeah. No. We wouldn’t do that. And I wouldn’t – _wow_.”

The idea of having someone over obviously appealed to Peter, and that made Tony grin.

“Do you want me to ask his mother?”

“No. I’ll swing by tomorrow after school and talk to him – she’ll want to talk to you, though, probably. Can he stay the night?”

“Yeah. I don’t see why not. Find out what he wants for snacks and we’ll swing by the store sometime this week and stock up on slumber party food.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

“You’re welcome.” Another kiss, and a gentle caress, talented fingers sliding under Peter’s sweatshirt to touch bare skin, briefly. “Get back to work.”

Peter smiled up at him, and Tony couldn’t help but catch his lips in a heated kiss, short though it was.

“Yes, daddy.”


	164. 164

After lunch Peter spent time with Bruce, while Tony had every intention of spending time working on the nanotech for the newest Ironman suit. Peter would have liked to have watched him working on _that_ project, but he enjoyed working with Bruce, too – and they were paying him for doing it. Besides, Bruce had already sent him a text apologizing for not being able to make it to the award presentation and that he wanted to hear all about it.

“I saw the article in the paper,” Bruce told him as they worked. “It’s a good picture of you.”

Peter was standing next to him, looking in a microscope and counting bacterial colonies, but he looked up and smiled.

“There were a lot more of Tony and Steve, I noticed.”

“Yeah. That’s _always_ going to happen. Tony was pretty showy back in the day, and Steve is _Captain America._ People _want_ to see them – and they sell papers and commercial spots.”

“I guess. There were a few people flirting with them, too.”

“I bet. Tony’s rich, and good-looking – and Ironman. Steve – _again_ – is Captain America and well built.” He looked up from the culture he was putting together. “Was anyone flirting with _Natasha_?”

“I think she scares everyone.”

Which made Banner smile.

“Not you, though.”

“I like her.”

“So do I.”

“Tony’s going to a party Friday night,” Peter said, looking back into his microscope.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“A _cocktail_ party?”

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted. “Just one that he was invited to.”

“With _you_?”

Peter shook his head, trying to keep track of what he’d already counted and what he hadn’t, even while he told Bruce about the woman who had mentioned getting a baby-sitter for him so Tony would be free to go out and spend time with grown-ups.

“That was pretty rude of her…” Bruce said, his voice somewhere between aghast and a growl.

“ _True_ , though,” the boy replied with a shrug. “He spends a lot of time with me, and never gets to have fun.”

“You don’t think he has fun with you?”

“No. I think he _does_. But not _adult_ fun. No fancy parties or that kind of thing.”

It was Banner's turn to shrug.

“He’s outgrown the need for wild parties. I think he much prefers to stay home, nowadays. _You’re_ good for him that way.”

Peter looked over at Bruce, surprised by the approval he heard in the other’s tone.

“You think?”

“Yes. I haven’t seen any _negative_ press about him in months, now.”

“He’s going with Pepper,” Peter told him. “I don’t imagine they’ll have any problems. And he’ll get to have a good time – without me keeping him home.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Peter,” Bruce told him, looking over once more, before turning his attention back to what he was doing. “I think you’re loads of fun. Do you want to come out to the compound on Friday, then? I don’t like the thought of you rattling around in the apartment by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t be. I have Bob – _and_ we're dog-sitting Boomer for Monica. Plus, my friend Ned is coming over.”

“He’s the one you played D&D with? The guy in the comic book store?”

“Yeah. I’ll be okay. Besides, I think Tony’s going to work on his suit this weekend.”

“The nanotech one?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about that…”

The topic changed to the new suit, and Peter did his best to explain the technology that Tony was trying to implement for it, while still trying to count the bacteria under his microscope. Luckily, he understood the tech fairly well, by then, because he was able to explain it to Bruce without too much difficulty.

Even better that Bruce was smart enough to understand what Peter was telling him – even if tech wasn’t the man’s first love. By the time Tony came knocking on the lab door, the two were discussing other topics, but Bruce was truly interested in seeing the finished product when Tony finished his suit – and wondering if there was some way to implement nanotech in clothing so he’d stop ripping all of his clothes when he changed.

Something to think about, anyway.

“You guys done with your Frankenstein project?” the billionaire asked, walking into the room, but staying close to the door since he had Bob with him and Bruce had plenty of things that were breakable in his lab.

Peter smiled a welcome and finished washing the equipment he’d been using, while Bruce went to the door and crouched down to rub the dog’s ears.

“We’re almost done. And we’re not building a _monster_ ,” he pointed out. “Just trying to figure out how best to deal with the one we already know…”

“You’re doing gamma experiments?” Tony asked, feeling just a little concern at the thought.

“Of course not. Just working with some junk DNA I’m trying to figure out.”

The billionaire gave him a suspicious look.

“I don’t want to have to worry about Spider Hulk and Hulkier Hulk, Bruce…”

Banner didn’t have a clue what Tony was talking about – and it _showed_ – but he was quick enough to figure it out by the time Peter walked over, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“No worries… we’re doing very low level tests and absolutely no radiation.”

“Good to hear.” He smiled at Peter, who looked beautiful. As always. “Got everything?”

“Yeah.” The boy looked at Bruce. “You’re not working, tomorrow?”

“Or the _next_ day,” Banner confirmed. “I’m going to be at the compound doing some testing with the radiation spectrum. And that _isn’t_ something I can use your help with.”

Which Peter already knew.

“Okay. I’ll see you Friday, then.”

“Yes. Good job, today, Peter, thanks.”

Bruce watched as Tony and Peter headed for the elevator, and then went back into the main room of the lab to get everything closed down for the night.

>>><><><><> 

“Did you have a good afternoon?” Tony asked as Peter settled into his lap in the back of the car.

“It was fun,” the boy assured him, his head going to Tony’s shoulders when the older man’s arms went around him to hold him, close. “I like working with Bruce. He’s pretty smart.”

“He tells me the same thing about you.”

“He does?”

“Of course.” Tony pressed a kiss against Peter’s temple. “Because it’s _true_. You’re so smart…”

Peter smiled, soaking the praise like a desert flower with a couple of raindrops.

“Thank you, daddy.”

Tony chuckled, squeezing him, lightly. Peter loved the praise, and Tony loved him. It was easy enough to be lavish with it – especially when it was true.

“You’re welcome, honey.”

“Did you work on your new suit?”

“No. I had an emergency call from Indonesia that we had to deal with, instead. Just some logistics, but it needed Pepper and me both to take care of it. I’ll work on the suit, tomorrow. If you want, you can come in with me even though you’re not working in the lab and we can spend time in the workroom after lunch.”

“ _Really_? Yeah. Sounds great.”

Which made Tony smile, because it sounded great to him, too. He didn’t get as much done with Peter there, but he didn’t mind – and the boy _did_ give him some good insight, at times, that made it worth the loss of productivity.

“Good. It’s a date.”

Peter turned his head and kissed Tony’s neck.

“I wish we _could_ go on a date, daddy… a real one. Like in the movies – and on TV.”

“Have you ever been on one, before, baby?”

“No. We did a mock dating thing in home ec, in seventh grade, but it was just cooking the meal and presentation.”

“How did you do?”

“Set the curtain on fire.”

Tony chuckled.

“I think we could probably arrange something, honey,” he murmured into the boy’s hair, his agile mind already thinking of ways to make his baby feel special. “Do you know how to dance?”

“No. Yes. A little. May and Ben showed me swing dancing.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah, but I wasn’t very good at it.”

“Any slow dancing?”

“No.”

“I’ll teach you to dance, honey,” he promised. “And then I’ll take you on a date.”

“How?”

“We’ll figure it out. Let me worry about that, okay?”

Peter smiled.

“Okay.”

“Did you tell Ned about Friday, yet?”

“No. I thought I’d go ask in person at the comic store – in case his mom had questions.”

“Why don’t we swing by there, tonight, when we get home and walk Bob? That way I can assure her there will be supervision.”

“But there won’t be – you’ll be at the party.”

“FRIDAY can watch things. You two are responsible enough – and old enough – to be trusted for a few hours, but she’ll probably feel better knowing that there’s immediate communication available, just in case.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

“So we’ll stop and talk to them.”

Peter smiled, even though Tony couldn’t see it, anticipating how excited Ned would be to get invited to the penthouse.

“It sounds great, daddy,” he murmured, turning his head to kiss Tony’s neck, again, and allowing his hand to slide down between them, resting it lightly on Tony’s lap between their bodies and feeling the beginning of a stir of interest under Tony’s slacks. The billionaire’s breath caught, and he was suddenly still, waiting to see what Peter did, next. “You’re okay?”

Tony put his hand over Peter’s, pressing it down against him and hitching his hips, just a little. They wouldn’t have time during the short drive home to do more than fondle and grope each other, but that was fine. He loved it when Peter instigated their intimacy – he didn’t do it as often as Tony would have liked – so he definitely wanted to encourage it when he did.

“I’m _perfect_ , little boy,” he assured him, his voice a little throat. “Don’t stop.”

The boy’s dexterous fingers reached blindly for Tony’s zipper, while he lifted his head to catch Tony’s lips and kiss him, properly.

“Yes, daddy.”

Like he _needed_ any encouragement.


	165. 165

“What’s this I hear about you going to a party on Friday?”

Tony scowled, even though the phone call was voice only and Romanoff couldn’t see it.

“How did you hear that?”

“I’m a _spy_. I hear things, Tony. Is it true?”

“Yes.” He glanced at the door that led from the balcony to the inside of the apartment, even though he knew Peter was in the tub and even with his impressive hearing he wasn’t going to be able to inadvertently eavesdrop. “But I don’t _want_ to…”

“Yeh… that’s how I understand it. Who’d have thought? Tony Stark, Ironman himself, doing the bidding of a sixteen-year-old…”

“Yeah? Do I need to remind you, agent Romanoff, that the same sixteen-year-old has you wrapped around his little finger?”

“What? No, he doesn’t.”

“My ass.”

“Who’s this Ned kid coming over?”

“He’s the one we played D&D with.”

“Sleeping over?”

“Yes.”

“Do we need to worry about another Tate situation?”

“No. I’m pretty sure Ned isn’t a concern. I like him, though – he’s extremely bright.”

And incredibly excited to be invited over to Tony Starks place for the evening.

Tony had barely explained the situation to the boy’s mother before Ned’s eyes had gone wide and his jaw had literally dropped. Explaining that Peter was going to be home alone and that Tony would feel better if the boy had company, he’d asked if – as a favor – Ned could be allowed to hang out while Tony was gone.

He’d offered to keep him overnight, if the folks were comfortable with that, or just bring him home when the party was over – even though they weren’t entirely sure what time that would be. It hadn’t taken long for Ned’s big, hopeful, eyes to convince his mother and father to say yes. And really, they were inclined to do so, anyways, since both had met Tony and had spent time with him playing D&D.

Besides, he was Ironman – which Ned had been quick to remind them.

“Smarter than my sweet baby?”

“I think so – at least, in different fields.”

“Are you going to invite him out to the compound so I can meet him, some day?”

“Peter might. Not _this_ weekend, though. We already have Boomer; we don’t need another teenager. I can’t afford to feed that many hungry mouths.”

She chuckled and ended the call, and Tony pocketed his phone and walked back into the apartment, closing it down for the evening.

Once they’d returned from walking Bob – and the comic store – they’d made an easy dinner of chef salad and bread rolls, and had played Scrabble. A game that Peter was really good at, Tony had discovered. Not surprisingly, since not only was he well-read from the time he was a child, but he’d been practically living in a library when he was homeless, and had been working his way through the shelves.

Peter had managed to win a few games, and Tony had held his own, but the last game had been a blowout in Peter’s favor. Which had resulted in him kissing Peter hungrily, and sliding his hand along the boy's rear and taking a handful of flesh.

“You’re so smart, honey,” he’d murmured into the kiss. “Such a perfect match of beauty and brains – and brawn. How did I get so lucky to have you as my own?”

Peter was already trembling, of course, and had whimpered under the onslaught of praise and caresses.

“Please, daddy…”

Tony had hugged him, close, and tucked his head under his chin.

“What are we doing tonight, honey?” he asked.

“Whatever you want.”

“No…” Tony had already decided that since Peter had started the ball rolling in the back of the car, stroking Tony, lightly, until the billionaire had been stiff and aching, _he_ was going to make sure the boy was the one who chose what – if _anything_ – they did that evening. “ _You_ decide. Then let me know.”

Which had been Tony’s way of telling him that if Peter didn’t choose, Tony wasn’t going to, either; they could have a cuddle night, instead – which was perfectly fine. The older man’s libido had definitely kicked up with the addition of Peter in his life (and his _bed_ ) but as exciting as the boy was for him, he would do whatever Peter wanted.

Even if it was nothing.

The boy had hesitated, simply leaning into the embrace, and teasing one of the buttons on the $300 shirt Tony was wearing. Tony waited, more than willing to just hold him all night, if that was what he wanted. Finally, though, very softly…

“Can we take a bath?”

Tony had smiled, even though Peter didn’t see it; pleased with him for choosing.

“Yes. I think that’s a great choice.”

Which had made Peter smile, even though _Tony_ couldn’t see it. Then the boy had added to the evening in a way Tony hadn’t expected – although the request had come out in an uncertain rush of words that Tony had been forced to decipher as he hadn’t for a few weeks, now.

“Willyoucarrymeinandundressmeandbethedaddy?”

Tony groaned once he realized what Peter was asking for, and he couldn’t help that his hold on Peter tightened.

“You want to be my little boy?” he’d asked.

“Yes.”

Muffled by Tony’s shirt, as if worried that Tony was going to say no – _as if!_ – the words were soft and uncertain, but held a faint hope that Tony couldn’t have resisted even if he’d wanted to. Which he didn’t, of course. Peter knew what he liked and had turned on Tony in the best of way, making him decide what to do into playtime for the older man.

Tony had picked him up, easily, settling him on his hip like a much younger boy, and Peter had put his arms around his neck, melting into him. Then he’d allowed Tony to carry him. First into the bedroom to lose his clothes, and then into the bathroom, where Tony had set him on the vanity counter while he’d run the bathwater.

As the tub filled, Tony had played with Peter’s cock, lightly stroking the boy until he was hard, and peppering his face with tender kisses.

“Will you give me a hickey, daddy?” Peter asked, liftin his chin and baring his neck to him. “Please…?”

“You want a mark, honey?” Tony asked, gently grinding the front of his slacks against the boy’s pelvis where he was seated. “Is that it? Proof of who you belong to?”

Peter had shivered. He hadn’t thought of it exactly like that, but realized that maybe that was why the idea of a hickey was so exciting to him. Because it was a way to be Tony’s. To prove he was his – for as long as the mark lasted, at least.

“Yes.”

Tony had brushed a very tender kiss against Peter’s bared neck, and had run the flat of his tongue along the pulsing vein that ran along the side.

“Not on your _neck_ , baby boy…” he’d said, regretfully. “But a hickey can be _anywhere_. Daddy can mark you somewhere else. Someplace that _you_ can see it, too, just in case you need reminding that you’re mine.”

“Can you?”

“Of course, honey.” The tub was full, now, and had Tony reluctantly pulled away to turn the water off. “Let’s get you into your bath. Then I’m going to go turn the apartment off for the night, and I’ll be back to keep you company. Alright?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Now Tony was back in the bathroom, and he leaned against the doorway, watching as the boy lightly stroked his cock, eyes closed and leaning into the back of the tub. He stripped himself, and walked over to crouch next to the bath, and Peter opened his eyes, smiling at Tony, who leaned over the edge of the tub to kiss him.

“Can I join you?”

Peter’s smile was happy and relaxed – and his eyes were bright with anticipation. He sat up, leaving Tony’s usual place open.

“Of course.”

Tony's answering smile was just as happy, and as he climbed into the tub he was gazing along Peter's body, debating where he'd leave the mark the boy had requested.


	166. 166

“Are you going to look at that thing all morning?” Tony asked, amused. “Happy’s going to be here pretty soon.”

Peter smiled over his shoulder at Tony, who was watching from the bedroom door as the boy finished dressing. They’d been up, had taken Bob for his walk and had eaten breakfast, but it was raining – again – and Tony had sent Peter to change into a warmer shirt. When he had, the dark mark low on his hip – almost level with his belly button – had caught his eye and he’d studied it, both directly and in the mirror that was on the back of his door.

“It’s my first hickey,” he reminded him. “I just want to enjoy it.”

Tony walked over and slid his arms around the boy from behind, bringing his palm over the mark that he’d sucked into Peter’s skin the night before.

“Wait until you see the tracks I put on you later,” he promised, turning his head and running his tongue along Peter’s neck, peppering tender kisses in the damp traces. “From here to here…” his hand drifted lower, sliding under the front of Peter’s jeans.

Which made him smile, and he leaned back into his embrace, his neck bared for Tony.

“The first one is exciting, though…”

“Mine isn’t my first one by any means,” Tony pointed out, thinking of the mark that Peter had left on him – in almost the exact same place. “And it is _easily_ the best hickey I’ve ever had.”

Peter blushed and would have turned in his arms, except he was fine with where Tony’s hand was, just then.

“Thanks, daddy.”

_“Happy’s here,”_ FRIDAY announced.

Tony smirked.

“Put a shirt on, honey. And a sweatshirt. I’ll get Bob harnessed.”

Peter did as he was told, and the two headed down to the garage with Bob.

>><><><>> 

“Did you see the paper?”

“No.” There was a time when Tony would have FRIDAY scan the local and national media for any mention of himself – either to preen because he’d created yet another amazing scandal or made a lot of money in some corporate deal – or to bitch and complain about a less than flattering (albeit sometimes accurate) character attack. Now, he couldn’t care less what the world thought of him and he was much less antagonistic than he had been. Somewhat. “Should I look?”

“There’s a write up on you and Peter. Someone called him your mini me and are questioning your relationship.”

Tony scowled.

“Questioning?”

Pepper smirked.

“The phrases love child and illegitimate son have come up a few times.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded.

“It’s kind of cute, really. One of the tabloids has a photo of the two of you walking Bob in the rain and the caption _Irondad_ …”

The billionaire rolled his eyes.

“He _isn’t_ my son.”

“I know. And _you_ know the media has almost certainly back-checked him far enough to cross reference his mother’s history and your history to know you haven’t crossed paths, before. But when does the media – or the press – care about the accuracy of what they report? _Especially_ the tabloids.”

“Huh. True.”

“It could be worse,” she pointed out. “At least they have caught the whole _dad_ vibe. It’s like the foster thing, only a little more domestic.”

“I suppose. It’s not hurting the company?”

“Stocks are still sky-rocketing.”

“Then I suppose I won’t issue a comment or something. We’ll let them talk.”

Besides, it was almost entertaining to let the media grab the story and run with it – especially since it was so far off the mark. He liked the idea of them being wrong and not realizing it.

“Want to hear the best of the tabloid shots?” Pepper asked, still smiling – which told Tony it wasn’t a personally insulting one.

“Lay it on me.”

“Peter’s mom and dad were secret agents, working with SHIELD and _you’re_ his godfather.”

Tony rolled his eyes, with a shake of his head.

“If that were the case, I’d have had him in my custody when he was _five_. Stupid assholes.”

“They pointed out that with living blood relatives, you couldn’t claim custody of him – _legally_ – so now that his aunt and uncle are dead, you’ve stepped up.”

“What do these people smoke before writing these stories?”

Pepper chuckled, but shrugged.

“It’s far out there, but they have documentation, they say – so you might want to warn Peter – just in case some of it is defaming toward his mom and dad.”

“If it is, they’ll find themselves on the other side of a lawsuit that will wipe them out.”

“Of course.”

She already knew that. And chances were, the _tabloids_ knew it, as well. It was one thing to come up with the stories; it was quite another to be foolish enough to attack a young boy and irritate the public – much less piss off someone as powerful and erratic as Tony Stark.

She already mentioned the possibility to their legal teams.

“Just make sure he’s aware of the wild tales, will you? I don’t want him blindsided if someone were to shout a question at him.”

“I will, thanks.” He ran his hand along his jaw. “Anything else I need to know about?”

“You’re ready for the meetings?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’re set for the day.”

“Are you ready for Friday night?”

“Jeans and a ripped t-shirt?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Whatever makes you happy.”

The billionaire wasn’t concerned; she would never go to an event looking less than amazing.

“Get out of my office, Tony. I have work to do.”

“I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

“Don’t be late.”

He left her office, and walked toward his own, thinking about the tabloid story she’d mentioned. Before he entered his office, he slowed his steps and pulled his phone.

“FRIDAY? Start looking through SHIELD archives for any mention of Richard or Mary Parker. Hack their systems, and get _anything_. Send any results to my office – do _not_ announce anything you find aloud.”

“Gotcha.”

He walked into his office only a minute later, smiling when he saw the boy sitting at his desk, working on schoolwork. Peter looked up, more than willing to be distracted.

“What’s Pepper doing?”

“Nothing interesting,” he told Peter with a casual shrug. “She’s just reading the paper. How’s it going?”

“It’s history,” Peter told him, smiling when Tony seated himself on the edge of the desk, putting his leg within Peter’s reach. He set his hand on Tony’s thigh. “Not too interesting.”

“Because you’re a _science_ nerd, honey,” Tony told him. “The _history nerds_ love it – ask Rhodey sometime about the Byzantine empire, and then prepare for a snoozefest.” Peter laughed, and Tony took his hand from his thigh, brought it up and kissed his palm, briefly. “I’m not going to be around for recess today.”

Peter nodded; he’d somewhat expected it, since he knew Tony had meetings all morning.

“It’s okay, daddy. We still get to work in your lab, today?”

“Absolutely. _If_ you get your schoolwork done, that is.”

Peter rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back to his display, and Tony went over to his own desk, sitting down and turning on his tablet. In a few minutes, the room was quiet.


	167. 167

Tony’s meeting went later than expected and FRIDAY advised Peter that he was to go ahead and eat without waiting for the older man to join him. Then went on to tell him that Tony said if it went even _later_ , he could just go ahead and go to the lab and Tony would meet him there, instead. Peter simply asked her to tell him that was fine. He didn’t really want to eat alone, but he wasn’t going to complain that Tony had to work and couldn’t eat with him.

He and Bob went to the executive dining room that they usually ate at together on the days that Tony and he had a chance, and was greeted just as warmly as usual by the woman at the grill. Once she made him a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches, he took that – and a platter of fries – over to a corner table by the window and smiled a thank you when she brought him a milkshake to wash it all down.

“Eat,” she told him, cheerfully. “You’re still too thin.”

The kitchen staff weren’t aware of why he was thin, but they were all women and all of them liked to coddle him.

“Thank you.”

Someone who had been there before had left a newspaper sitting on the table beside the one Peter was at, and after scrolling through his scant social media contacts and files, he reached for it so he’d have something to read while he ate.

The headlines were usually political, and he didn’t care much for them and rarely read the articles attached, but he skimmed through the rest, just in case something interesting was going on. He would occasionally see something about the Avengers – or Tony, of course – and had even seen an article way in the back about himself after the taxicab incident.

He turned the first page and immediately noticed a picture of him, Tony and Bob out on the street, and smiled because it was really a _good_ one, as far as he was concerned. He realized that he didn’t have a lot of pictures of him and Tony together.

Then he saw the headline, and lost the smile, wondering if _Tony_ knew about the rumor that was being spread – and what he thought about it. He read through the article a few times, and then went through the rest of the front section, just to see if there were any others like it. There weren’t.

Tony didn’t join him by the time that he’d finished eating, so he gathered up his dog and headed for the billionaire’s workroom.

><><>><><> 

Tony smiled when he walked into the workroom a short time later. Peter was sitting on the stool the older man usually used, his attention on the display in front of him.

The billionaire walked over and wrapped his arms around the boy from behind, bringing his cheek down to brush Peter’s. He was surprised to see that the boy was using the display to read a tabloid – but then saw what he was looking at.

Yet another picture of Tony and Peter walking Bob.

“Hi, honey,” he crooned, pressing a kiss against Peter’s cheek and smiling, softly, when the boy turned his head to meet his lips. “Tell me that’s not another _Irondad_ article?”

“You knew about them?”

Tony nodded.

“Found out right before my meetings.”

“They think I’m your son.”

“I’m _glad_ you’re not my son,” he said, hugging him. “But it works well for us, really. No one would ever say anything if they see us together.”

He looked surprised by how calm Tony was.

“You’re okay with this?”

“I’m _used_ to the press making up stories about me, honey. The question is; are _you_ upset?”

“No. I guess not. I mean… I was worried that you would be _mad_. That maybe we weren’t doing enough to keep it secret…”

“I’m not mad – and even if I _were_ , I wouldn’t be mad at _you_. _You’re_ perfect, baby. My perfect boy.”

He felt Peter shiver at the praise, but he turned back to the display.

“This one is saying that you’re my godfather – and that my parents were spies.”

Tony nodded, still holding Peter.

“I’m not your godfather. Until we found you in the alley, I’d never heard the name Parker, before.”

Peter smiled.

“I know. It’s a tabloid; they always get things wrong.”

“Well… sometimes they find a nugget of truth,” Tony said, letting Peter go and spinning his stool around so the boy was looking at _him_ , now, and not the display. “Let me ask you something – and if you don’t want to answer it, tell me and we’ll drop it.”

“Okay.”

“What do you remember of your mom and dad?”

Peter looked surprised by the question.

“Not much, really,” he admitted, after a moment. “I… May and Ben had some pictures of them, but they were lost when the apartment… when they died. I think my mom was pretty… and my dad had a mustache. I didn’t think to take one of the pictures…”

He hadn’t realized it before, but he should have taken the opportunity to at least have one of them. Now he didn’t have anything. Nothing to remind him of the parents that he’d lost when he was so young. He had a single black and white photo of Ben and May that had been – ironically – taken at the expo the night Peter had first met Ironman. But nothing of his folks.

He was a _shitty_ son, wasn’t he?

“Do you remember May or Ben mentioning what they did?”

“My dad was in the military, I think. I’m not sure what my mom did. I’m pretty sure they weren’t spies, though.”

Tony smiled, brushing his fingers against Peter’s forehead.

“You’d be _wrong_ , though.”

He raised an eyebrow – a trick that Tony wished he could do.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Your dad was in the Army. He was highly decorated and a Special Forces soldier. Your mom was a CIA analyst and translator.”

“Really?”

Tony smiled.

“Yes. Your maternal _grandfather_ was CIA, too. Which – despite what they’d like people to think – simply means _spy_. No wonder _Natasha_ likes you so much; you’re a prodigy, honey. Your folks are the real deal.”

“Oh. How do you know?”

“Because I had FRIDAY hack SHIELD to see if there was any truth behind that tabloid story that you’re reading – just in case someone said something that might hurt you. I wanted to be ready, if you needed me to reassure you that they really _were_ good people and not something the tabloids might decide to make them look like.”

“Were they?”

Tony shook his head.

“They were _amazing_. And a team. And your mom was _really_ pretty.”

Peter smiled, softly, his eyes filling with tears, despite the amount of time since he’d lost her. _Tony_ had thought she was pretty, too, and Peter knew he knew a _lot_ of beautiful women – so that meant something.

“Honey…” he was suddenly being held, his face pressed against Tony’s chest, and the older man’s arms around him, tightly. “If you want, we’ll have FRIDAY snag some pictures of them for you. You should have at least one.”

“I’d like that,” Peter told him, sniffing. He wasn’t crying, really, just _weepy_. “My dad was in Special Forces?” he repeated. “ _Really_?”

“Yeah.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Peter’s head, holding him, lovingly. “And look at you… their son is doing what he can to take care of the little guy and make the world a better place. They’d have been so proud of you, Peter.”

Peter _did_ cry, then, and Tony held him as he wept for the parents that he’d never really had a chance to know – but who definitely would have been proud of him. He smiled to find himself in more of a dad role, just then, than a _daddy_ role; but he loved Peter, and if that was the role that he needed to play, just then… then he would.

It was that simple.


	168. 168

They spent the rest of the work day in the workroom. Peter relinquished Tony’s stool to him, and leaned against him, watching him go through the modifications that he was making to the prototype of the nanotech suit. It wasn’t close to being complete – Tony was waiting for a couple of things from the new company – but he was building around that, and was pleased with the progression.

After his crying jag, Peter was a little clingy, but Tony didn’t mind. He didn’t work as efficiently with one arm around his baby, but he worked more _cheerfully_ , even though he didn’t always show it. With the boy’s head resting on his shoulder, sometimes turning to kiss his neck – without leaving a hickey – Tony had a good day.

And Peter did, as well.

“You know what you need?” he said, finally turning off the display and standing up, stretching.

“What?”

“Some exercise.”

“Cause I’m getting _fat_?”

Tony smiled at that, taking Peter’s head in his palms and kissing him, soundly.

“Yes, because you’re getting fat. And for the record, I’d love you just as much if you _were_ fat, so don’t start developing body issues, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I was thinking I’d teach you how to dance, tonight – if you’re interested.”

Peter smiled, surprised.

“Really?”

Tony shrugged, pleased at the smile and the excited gleam in Peter’s eyes. The boy loved learning; even something like dancing.

“Well, I need to practice if I’m going to the party, right? I can’t spend the evening tromping on Pepper’s feet, or she’ll be too sore to come to work Monday – and _then_ I’d have to pretend to be the boss. It’ll be fun.”

Peter obviously agreed.

“Slow dancing? Like in the movies?”

“How else will I convince you to let me wrap my arms around you and hold you all night?”

The boy smiled.

“It wouldn’t be that hard.”

“Such a perfect answer. He hugged him, close, and pressed another kiss against his cheek. “Let’s go home.”

>><><><>

Happy dropped them at the apartment, driving by a few dogged reporters who were camping outside of the apartment building on his way into the garage. Tony scowled; annoying enough that they shadowed him everywhere _else_ , but he hated the thought of them pestering him and Peter in one of their few sanctuaries.

The compound being the other, far more defended one.

“Want me to ‘accidentally’ run a couple of them over on my way out?” Happy asked, winking at Peter as he opened the back door for them.

Peter chuckled as he got out of the car, and Tony rolled his eyes.

“I suppose not. We need to perpetuate the myth that I am above such pettiness.”

“When did you hear _that_?” the driver asked, pretending to be skeptical. “Last _I_ heard, you were the picture one saw when they looked the word up in the dictionary.”

Stark smirked.

“What’s a _dictionary_? You’re showing your age, Hogan.”

“Just reminding Peter of how we old guys used to learn, _Irondad_ …”

This time Peter laughed, outright, feeling better now that he knew how Tony felt about the rumors about him and the billionaire. Happy winked at him, again, while Tony pretended to be annoyed.

“You can be _replaced_ ,” he reminded the driver. “We can harness Bob here to a little cart and he can pull us to work…”

“He’ll stop and pee on every hydrant, though. The commute would take hours.” Happy closed the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night.” They turned for the elevator and Tony put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Do you feel like running that gauntlet to walk Bob? Or do we put him in the car and take him to the dog park, instead?”

Peter didn’t mind the reporters. None had been rude or too pushy with him, but he knew they annoyed Tony, and he had to admit he _was_ a little nervous what the next story about him might end up being.

“The dog park.”

“Sounds good,” Tony approved. “We’ll stop and pick up some Chinese for dinner.”

The boy didn’t argue, so Tony stopped long enough to grab his keys, and they were off, again.

>><><><>< 

“It isn’t very hard…”

“Because I’m a very good teacher, and you are incredibly graceful…”

They were pressed close to each other, and Tony had his arms around Peter’s waist, his hands resting lightly on the rear of his jeans. Peter’s cheek was pressed against the arc reactor, and his hands were holding Tony’s hips. Soft music was being played, and they were enjoying the feeling of swaying slowly together in the rhythm FRIDAY was setting up for them.

“Yeah?”

“Of course. I’d much rather take you to the party and spend the evening showing everyone just what a quick learner you are… instead, I’ll just have to pretend every partner I have is you.”

“But only for _dancing_ ,” Peter said, not moving his head from Tony’s chest. “The other stuff is just for me, right?”

Tony smiled, feeling a thrill go through him at the first hint that he’d ever heard of any kind of jealousy in Peter’s voice. Had to cherish something to want it to be yours and yours alone, right?

“What other _stuff_ are you thinking about, honey?” he asked, keeping his voice light so Peter would know he was simply teasing.

“The good stuff.”

“Oh?” Tony gripped Peter’s jeans in a firm grip. “Tell me…”

The boy hesitated – as always – and buried his face into the fabric of Tony’s shirt.

“Sex.”

“Yes… and…?”

“And hugging…”

“What else?” Tony asked. “What do you want me to do only to _you_ , baby boy? Tell me. Be _brave_.”

“ _Daddy_ …”

“You can do it,” Tony crooned, still moving them to the music, feeling his body pressed so perfectly against Peter’s. “My precious baby can tell me anything. So pretty. So perfect. What does daddy do to you that you like the most?”

Peter trembled, and his hold on Tony tightened, but his steps never faltered.

“You play with me… with my _rear_ ,” he mumbled into the shirt.

“And…”

“And hold me. And touch me…”

“And make love to you?” Tony purred, bringing Peter’s body tightly against him, now.

“Yes. Especially _that_.”

“I only want to do any of those things to _you_ , honey,” Tony assured him. “You’re a perfect fit for my hands,” he kissed him, softly. “For my _arms_ …” another kiss, and they stopped moving so Tony could hug Peter, closer than ever. “For the rest of me.”

Peter’s hand slid down between them, the motion made more difficult by the fact that Tony had himself right up against him. His fingers found the older man’s erection through his slacks, and Tony made a pleased sound when the boy caressed him.

“This?” Peter asked, smiling up at him while he began to tease his already interested cock. “This fits pretty well, daddy.”

“Yes, baby boy,” Tony told him, his hands once more cupping Peter’s cheeks, tilting his head just a little more, giving him access to the boy’s lips, and he kissed him, tenderly, with a promise of more to come. “Daddy will show you just how well…”

“I’d like that, daddy.”

Tony chuckled.

“Yes, honey, you definitely will.”

He’d make sure of it.


	169. 169

Friday morning dawned cold, windy and rainy. A blustery day, which wasn’t so uncommon given the time of year, but Peter didn’t mind. He woke up – as usual – in Tony’s warm embrace, and managed to wake up before Bob. Which meant he had a chance to simply stay still for a few minutes and enjoy the strong arms that were holding him, and the scent of the man beside him.

Not too surprisingly, Tony woke when he did, ever alert to changes in nuance from the boy – mainly because of the nightmares he had.

Now, though, given the time of day, he wasn’t quick to cuddle to reassure. He was quick to cuddle because it just never got old to wake up in the morning and feel Peter’s wonderful body pressed up against his, trying to steal his body heat.

“Awake?”

“M-hmm…”

A hand slid along his hip and Peter smiled. He knew they hadn’t woken early enough for anything too serious – not if they wanted to actually _finish_ it. Bob didn’t care if they were in the middle of a tryst. The mastiff knew he was their reason for being, and that when he was awake, it was time to go out. They had learned that the hard way.

“So pretty…”

Peter shivered; either the touch, or the praise making him react. It didn’t matter that Tony hadn’t even opened his eyes, yet, so he couldn’t see the messy bedhead, or the crease running across Peter’s cheek from sleeping on Tony’s watch. Even better, Peter knew that he would still say the same thing even if he had.

“Good morning, _daddy_.”

Now it was Tony’s turn to shiver, and he _did_. He gathered Peter in his arms and hugged him close against him.

“Last chance for you to change your mind and let me stay home and play video games with you and Ned all night…”

The response was a chuckle and an arm coming around him, his head resting against Tony’s chest.

“You don’t want to play video games with us; we’re pretty competitive – and _Ned’s_ really good.”

“You realize the Ironman suit is basically a walking, wearable 1st person shooter, right?”

“Then we’d play GTA.” He kissed Tony’s bare chest. “Besides, you _want_ to go to the party.”

Tony snorted; but didn’t deny it.

He’d spent Wednesday night teaching Peter to dance – among other, more exciting activities – and then had taken the next day off from the office to have a spa day with the boy – even though they’d only recently had one. Special circumstances, he’d told Peter.  The haircut was already perfect, but there was always a good excuse to have a manicure and a long, relaxing massage. Peter had declined the massage when Tony had suggested it with a teasing look in his wonderfully intelligent eyes, and had spent the morning in a little posh waiting room, nibbling on snacks and doing school work while the staff occasionally stopped in to see if he needed anything.

After that, they’d gone back to the apartment and Tony had pulled out his tux – just to make sure it was in the pristine shape it needed to be in for him to look his best. Peter had watched, sitting on the older man’s bed, while Tony had put it on, his eyes shining with excitement at how good Tony had looked in the formal wear.

Which had then been carefully removed in order to keep it from getting wrinkled when Peter sidled up to him and started caressing him in an almost demanding manner. Apparently, girls weren’t the only ones crazy about a sharp-dressed man, Tony learned as Peter rode him for what seemed like hours. Tony knew Peter was enjoying watching him get prepared for the party (because there was a romantic bubbling up inside the boy, screaming with happiness at the thought of the formal cocktail party) and Tony had to admit, that _he_ was looking forward to it, too.

Maybe Peter had been right about him not spending time with other adults. Of course, Peter was more mature than most of the people who were going to be there, but a night mingling wouldn’t kill him, and the chance to remind people just how much better he was than they were was never to be denied.

“We should get up…” Tony murmured, his hand automatically sliding to Peter’s front, cupping the boy’s morning wood and stroking him, experimentally.

“Yeah.” The attention felt wonderful, but despite his teenaged driven libido, Peter wasn’t desperate for physical activities, just then. Tony had made sure of it the night before. “Monica is leaving before eight…”

“Then we’d better get a move on.” He kissed Peter, softly, and cupped both cheeks with his palms, making the boy look at him. “I love you, honey.”

Peter’s sleepy smile was beatific.

“I love you, too, daddy.”

Then he chuckled when Tony cupped his ass cheek, just as possessively, and climbed out of bed – playfully going _over_ the older man and allowing himself to brush his erection along a fair amount of Tony’s bare skin in the process.

“You’re _killing_ me, Peter Parker,” Tony told him, amused and aroused in equal parts.

<><><><>> 

Monica was awake when they knocked on her door – and from the loud barks that warned them of his presence, _Boomer_ was, as well. They were both looking far more awake than Tony felt when she opened the door.

“Good morning.”

“Hey, Monica,” Peter greeted her, dropping to his knees to rub Boomer’s ears and face. “Hey buddy… are you _excited_ , huh? Going to come hang out with us for the weekend? Spend some time with Bob and the Avengers?”

Tony rolled his eyes, and Monica smiled.

It was obvious that _Peter_ was.

“You’re going to your compound?”

“Yes. Saturday afternoon – once I am recuperated from my party. Don’t worry, though, we won’t let Boomer out of our sights.”

“My friend Ned is coming with us,” Peter added, standing up. “So there’ll be a lot of us to watch him.”

Which was _also_ exciting for Peter – although much more exciting for _Ned_ , who had almost passed out with excitement when Tony had made a casual comment to the boy’s mother about _what if they wanted to keep Ned for the weekend and take him out to the Avenger’s compound – to keep Peter company?_ The woman had immediately been the subject of _two_ sets of big, hopeful, brown eyes (Ned’s _and_ Peter’s) and after a quick exchange with her husband – and a guarantee from Tony that there weren’t going to be any bombs or explosions or anything crazy like that going on – she’d agreed with a smile.

“I’m not worried about him, Peter,” she told them, ushering the two into the apartment, where there was a small pile of Boomer’s supplies next to the door. His dog bed, the specialty food he ate, and a couple of large chew bones. She handed Tony the Rottweiler's leash, while Peter put his harness on – even though he was perfectly fine with just a leash and his collar. “I know you’ll take good care of him.”

“You’ll be back on Monday?” Tony asked.

“Sometime along lunch. Want me to come find you?”

“Nope. We’ll take him to the tower with us, and you can have him when we return – unless you need him, sooner?”

“I’m just going to fall in bed and relax,” she said. “Thank you again for taking him for me.”

“It’s our pleasure,” the billionaire assured her. He leaned over and brushed a kiss against her cheek. “Have a fun trip.”

“Bring us back a souvenir,” Peter said, hugging her, tight.

“It’s Canada,” she said, chuckling, clearly amused at being made much of for something so basic as a weekend trip – and loving it. “I’ll bring you a _moose_.”

“He still won’t be as big as Bob,” Tony said, handing Peter Boomer’s leash. “Someone’s taking you to the airport?”

“My son should be here, anytime.”

“Good enough.”

They left, then, and headed back to the elevator, with Peter carrying the dog food and holding Boomer’s leash, and Tony buried under the dog bed and brandishing a chew bone as long as his arm. Both dogs still needed walked, after all, and Tony had a few end of the week meetings that he and Pepper had to attend before they could leave and go get ready for their party.

“This is great,” Peter said, cheerfully, as they entered the elevator. “What’s better than one big dog to walk around? Two big dogs to walk around…”

“Two big piles of _shit_ to clean up after them,” Tony reminded him.

Peter laughed.

“I don’t mind.”

“Good. Because I’m going to leave that to you.”

He stand around and look pretty.


	170. 170

“Well? How do I look?”

The two boys at the kitchen island looked up from the D&D books they were looking through, and watched as Tony walked across the living room and into their area.

“Like a million dollars,” Peter said, smiling.

“A _billion_ even,” Ned agreed, still looking a little shocked to find himself hanging out in Tony Stark’s apartment, and knowing that he was going to be joining them at the Avenger compound the next day. “You look really sharp.”

Tony smiled, brushing imaginary dust from the shoulder of his tuxedo, and well aware that he looked amazing. It was nice to have that confirmed, though. Even if it was just a couple of teenagers giving that validation.

One was Peter, after all, and there was no denying that the way he was looking at him made Tony preen, just a little. He always wanted to look good for his baby,

“Thank you. So, Happy is taking me to pick up Ms. Potts,” he told them. “Then he’ll be dropping us off. If you need anything, do not hesitate to call me. It’s a party filled with a lot of people I don’t really want to hang out with, so you’re not going to inconvenience me. Got it?”

He looked at both of them, waiting for them to nod.

“You’re going to order a pizza?”

“Right after we walk the dogs.”

Boomer was in his bed, which had been placed on the other side of the TV from Bob’s. Both dogs had spent the day relaxing with Peter, and not surprisingly, the well mannered Rottweiler hadn’t been any problem for the boy – at home or at the tower.

“Then what?”

“Movies and video games.”

Ned had brought his video game system, since it wasn’t something that Tony had ever needed to have, and Peter hadn’t asked for one or purchased one for himself.

“Sounds like a plan. No cooking, alright?”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “We won’t.”

They didn’t _need_ to; he and Tony had made a run to the store and picked up snacks of all kinds, including ice cream, chips, cookies and candy of all kinds. The two boys weren’t going to starve.

“ _Happy’s here,”_ FRIDAY announced, which made Ned smile, excitedly.

“That’s so cool.”

Tony smiled, too.

“I’m glad you approve.” He was, too. Ned was a fun guy to have around – and good company for Peter. “Peter? Walk me out, will you?”

“Yeah.”

They headed to the elevator, and when they were inside, Tony put his hand on the small of Peter’s back.

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah, daddy. You?”

“I’ll be home by midnight. Don’t wait up.”

Peter grinned.

“We’ll probably just be getting started by then.”

Tony kissed him before the door opened and the boy walked with him over to where Happy was waiting by the door of the car.

“Hey Cinderella, the wicked stepmother isn’t letting you go to the ball?”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“ _Cinderella_ is making _me_ go, otherwise I’d be getting ready to settle in with a pizza.”

“After we walk the dogs.”

“Don’t stay out too long,” Tony reminded him, getting into the car. “It’s raining pretty hard and I don’t want Bob to catch a chill.”

Happy smirked, well aware – like Peter was – that it wasn’t _Bob_ Tony was worried about.

“We’ll be fine.”

“If something comes up, call me,” Happy said, closing the door.

“Right after you call me,” Tony reminded him, rolling down the window.

“It’s only going to be an evening,” Peter told both of them. “How much trouble could we get into in that time?”

It wasn’t like Ned was _Tate_ , after all. Peter wasn’t worried.

“Just call if you need us.”

“I will.”

He waited for the car to drive off, and then went back up to the apartment, still smiling when he got off the elevator. Ned was putting the harnesses on the dogs, but looked up from where he was crouched down by Boomer.

“He’s not _really_ your dad, right?”

Peter shook his head.

“No. I’ve only known him, _personally_ , a few months.”

“So, he’s not your _godfather_ , either?”

“Nope.”

Peter handed Ned his jacket from the hook, and put on his, as well.

“I knew the newspaper article was so much bullshit,” Ned said as they got on the elevator. “My mom told dad the same thing, but he wasn’t so sure.”

“The _newspaper_ got it way off,” Peter said, with a slightly excited gleam in his expression. “But the _tabloid_ wasn’t completely wrong.”

“About which part?” Ned asked.

“About my parents working for the government,” he replied, as they exited the elevator and headed for the door - and the rainy late afternoon weather. “Turns out they _were_ SHIELD agents, long before I was born – and even after.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Dude, how did you find out? Or did you already know, before?”

“Tony had FRIDAY hack their systems and find the information – I didn’t know anything about it.”

“What do you know, now?”

“Lots. We’ve been going over some of the mission logs they entered in, back then.”

“Is it _classified_?” Ned asked, hopefully, and Peter knew that his friend wanted to hear some of the stories.

Which was fine, because Peter was more than willing to tell him some of them. It was exciting to him to know about his parents in the first place, and even more exciting to find out that they were so interesting.

“No. I can tell you some of it. We haven’t seen it _all_ , though…”

>>><><><>< 

“So wait…” Pepper said, looking at Tony with interest, and then through the open partition at Happy, who had been listening – even though nothing he was hearing was news to him. “His parents were SHIELD agents?”

“Yeah. Turns out they were. Regular Mr. and Mrs. Captain America…”

Tony smiled at Pepper’s expression, smug that he’d found something out that she was interested in. Of course, she was interested in Peter – like Happy was – so it wasn’t a surprise. Her next words were, however.

“Have you looked into survivor benefits?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“If they were working for a federal agency and were killed on the job – on a mission, or something – Peter would be eligible for survivor benefits.”

“There was life insurance,” Tony said. “I looked. The aunt and uncle cashed it in and used it to be able to afford to raise him.”

“This would be different,” she told him as they pulled into the swanky mansion of their hostess. “Let me look into it, though, alright? If Peter didn’t know what his parents did, it’s possible the aunt and uncle didn’t, either, and they might not have collected on the benefits.”

“Would they still be available?” Tony asked, skeptically. “It’s been a long time, after all.”

“There isn’t a statute of limitations – and they would be accruing interest all this time.” She smirked, because she knew something that he didn’t. “I’ll find out Monday and I’ll let you know.”

“Very good.”

Happy waited for a valet to open the back door, and Tony got out, first, offering his hand to Pepper to help her out, as well.

“I’ll be around,” the driver told them. “Let me know when you’re ready to go.”

“We won’t be late,” Tony assured him, glancing at Pepper to see if she was alright with that. When she nodded, he smiled, tucking her arm under his. “Midnight the coach turns into a pumpkin – unless we get a call that the boys have burned down the apartment, or something.”

Pepper shook her head.

“Why are you tempting _fate_ , Tony?”

“I’m not worried.”

He was only a phone call away, after all.


	171. 171

“I could get used to this,” Ned said only a couple of hours later.

“It’s _easy_ to, yeah.”

They were in the living room, both on the couch with the remains of a large meat-lover’s pizza on the coffee table in front of them and a couple of empty cola bottles, proof that there was almost certainly too much caffeine rumbling through their systems. Each boy was holding a controller as they played video games on the big screen TV, while both dogs were lounging in their respective beds, gnawing on chew bones.

Peter grumbled, though, a minute later, when his character was killed by Ned’s – for the 5th straight time.

“Don’t worry too much about it,” Ned told him, showing excellent control of any gloating that he might be feeling. “I play this game at least four nights a week – usually online. I never lose. You’ve never played it, before, and it shows – but you’re getting better.”

“Thanks.”

They’d played the games he’d brought over with his system, but he'd mentioned another one that Peter might like better. One that he’d left at home.

“We could go get it, if you want,” Ned offered. “Then we’d be playing as a team against other players around the country – and the world. You’d probably enjoy it, more.”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Ned didn’t live that far away, after all, and a glance at his watch showed it was still fairly early. “Let me make sure Tony’s okay with us going out.”

“I thought you were emancipated?” Ned asked, standing up and stretching. “He doesn’t _really_ have a say in what you do, does he?”

“He’s not my guardian, or anything,” Peter confirmed. “But I think he’d prefer to know where I am – and where _you_ are, since he’s responsible for you, right now.”

Ned rolled his eyes, but had to nod his agreement. Tony had told his parents he’d take good care of Ned, and that probably was enough to warrant making sure the billionaire knew where they were going.

“I suppose that makes sense.”

Peter laughed, and stood, as well.

“FRIDAY? Will you call Tony, please?”

“That never gets old,” Ned said, shaking his head and picking up the pizza box to carry it into the kitchen.

Before Peter could reply, Tony’s voice came over the apartment’s communications.

_“Peter?”_

“Hi.”

_“Everything alright?”_

“Yeah. We’re done eating and want to go to Ned’s to get a video game that he forgot to bring with him. Is it okay?”

There was a slight hesitation.

_“You’re going to take the dogs?”_

“Yeah. Of course.”

_“Go there and right back, okay?”_

“Sure. Thanks.”

_“Are you having a good time?”_

“Yeah. Except Ned keeps killing me. Which is why we need a new game.”

_“Well, good luck with that. Make sure you check in when you get home, alright?”_

“We will. Are you having fun?”

_“We’ve been here an hour and I’m already bored.”_

“What is Ms. Potts wearing?”

_“A blue dress. She looks amazing.”_

“Tell her I said hi.”

_“Go get your video game and stop trying to flirt with my date, Kirk.”_

Peter chuckled and ended the call with a simple goodbye, and he and Ned reached for harnesses for the dogs – and their jackets, since it was still pouring, outside.

>>><><><>> 

“Peter?”

Tony smiled, nodding, as he handed Pepper a drink.

“He wanted to make sure it was alright to go get a video game at Ned’s.”

“Why would he need your permission?” she asked, curiously. “You were there when the judge emancipated him.”

“I think he was more checking in with me, than anything,” Tony told her. “You’re right; I don’t have a say in what he does, but I _did_ ask him to let me know if anything came up. So he did. I appreciate it.”

“How far away does Ned live?”

“Just down the street.”

“They-“

She was interrupted by the arrival of the news anchor, Barb. The one who had initially invited Tony to the party in the first place.

“Tony, you’ve been hiding behind your girl Friday for too long,” she said, sweetly, giving Pepper a smile that was both annoyingly cloy and condescending. “Why don’t you come dance with me?”

He rolled his eyes, but was secretly amused at Pepper’s expression; well aware that the two women didn’t really get along and wishing that he could just turn his girl Friday loose on the reporter. It would have been fun to watch.

Instead he nodded goodbye to Pepper and allowed himself to be guided to a far corner of the dance floor.

“Where Peter?” she asked him after a moment, pretending to look around, although she knew that the boy hadn’t arrived with Tony and Pepper.

“He’s home – hanging out with a friend.”

“Did you see the write up?”

“Yes. It was nicely done.”

He was wary, now, although he was adept at hiding that. She had reminded him of a perceived favor she’d done for him – which told him that she was about to ask for something in return. Sure enough, a moment later, she spoke again, making a point to look around to allow them some privacy.

“Between you and me; when are you going to out him?”

Tony didn’t allow his expression to change.

“What do you mean, Barb?”

“C’mon, Tony. I saw the video from the police dash cam of the two of you together – and I’ve seen his videos on YouTube…”

“Still clueless,” he said – although he was beginning to get a little suspicious.

“I know the boy is this Spider-man guy,” she said, softly. “How about you let me have the inaugural interview when you out him to the public?”

If she was looking for a reaction, he disappointed her.

“What makes you think that?” he asked, his voice filled with scorn.

She rolled her eyes.

“He’s the same size, and how many other pint-sized superheroes does Ironman hang out with?” she asked. “Like I said, I saw the police cam of the night that he saved those women – and you joined him. Any idiot could figure it out.”

“ _Clearly_.”

She scowled, prettily, at the insult, but was far too professional to allow it to distract her.

“So? Do I get my interview? Or do _I_ out him?”

Tony pulled her just a little closer, his expression not changing – unless the sudden tightening of his jaw counted. Not looking at her, he waited just a moment to make sure he had her attention – all of it.

“ _That_ would be a mistake, Barb.”

“It would be the biggest story since _you_ came out,” she corrected. “It’ll make my legacy complete.”

“True. And he’d be out. Everyone would know Spider-man’s identity and you’d have your fifteen minutes of fame…”

“It’d be a lot more than _fifteen minutes_ ,” the newswoman told him. “I’d-“

“You know who Natasha Romanoff is?”

Barb faltered at the question and they stopped dancing.

“Is that a _threat_? You can’t-“

“Of course not. I don’t have any _control_ over her, so clearly I can’t use her particular skill-set to threaten someone, now can I?” He gave her a smile that didn’t come close to lighting up his eyes. “Romanoff _loves_ Peter, though, and I can’t even imagine what she’d think of the idea of someone sticking their cute little pug nose into Avenger’s business just on the off chance it would further their career.”

“Tony…”

“You think about that, Barb,” he interrupted, letting her loose, now. “Like I said; it’d definitely allow you your fifteen minutes of fame – but I don’t know that it would be worth the story.”

He winked, and turned, crossing the dance floor and moving back to Pepper’s side.

“What did you say to her?” she asked, as soon as he was within hearing. “She looks equal parts stunned and afraid…”

Even from the other side of the room. Of course, Pepper was very good at reading people.

“Nothing exciting,” he said, shrugging. “Just talking about life choices and how some are much more intelligent than others.”

“Uh huh. That’s it?”

“Yes. Want to dance?”

“Sure.”


	172. 172

“There.”

“I see them.”

“What do we do about the other one?”

“Depends on if we can get them separated. I’m more worried about the _dogs_ , really.”

“Jason has a solution for the dogs. Same one as we have for the _kid_.”

The man behind the wheel of the dark van looked over his shoulder and scowled at the gun in the man’s hand.

“We’re not killing them.”

“You’re so fucking soft, Bryan. You’ll kill the kids but not a fucking dog?”

“I _have_ a dog – I don’t want _kids_. Besides, we’re not killing the kid, either – don’t forget that.”

“Relax. It’s just a trank gun. It won’t kill the dogs – or the kid. But it will make sure we don’t get bit.”

“Fine.”

“They’re not going around the block this time,” the first one realized. “This might be our chance…”

“Let’s wait and see where they go. The shit weather is going to be doing us a favor, this time.”

There was no one on the street, for a change – despite the time of evening. That was almost _impossible_ in New York. It seemed there was always someone around – and he didn’t want any witnesses.

><><><>>< 

The car was as nondescript as they came, but a newer model and in clean condition – with some modifications. The man behind the wheel was equally nondescript. And frowning. He’d been in his position for a couple of hours, now, having relieved the previous agent just before Stark had left with his driver – and had watched the two boys walking out into the rain with the two dogs, chatting cheerfully and seemingly unconcerned about how hard it was raining.

He’d also been watching the _van_ , careful to make sure he wasn’t noticed by any of the men he saw in it. He was an expert at that, which was one of the reasons Romanoff had tapped him for the detail the was on, just then. The van had been across the street from the apartment building, and then had left before it was there long enough to garner too much suspicion.

Now, however, it was back, and was still just parked.

Which made it stick out. And that, of course, made the man watching the apartment want to watch the van, as well. He tapped his ear.

“Nelson. Check?”

_“Andy, it’s Sam. What’s up?”_

“Is Agent Romanoff there?”

The next voice he heard over his comm link was hers.

_“I’m here. What’s going on?”_

“Do you know if Fury or anyone else has eyes on the Iron Tower, tonight?”

_“Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”_

“Looks like someone’s watching it besides _me_.”

_“Vehicle?”_

“It’s a dark, late model van. Parked on the north side of the building, right now. It’s been in and out.”

_“I see it.”_ He could visualize her pulling up camera footage from several different angles, and he was sure he heard keyboard keys clacking in the background. _“Do we have a count?”_

“At least two – I couldn’t tell you beyond that. PITA isn’t there, though.”

_“No. But Protégé is.”_

“He _was_ ,” the agent corrected. “He and his friend are walking the dogs, again.”

Now it was a different voice coming over the communications.

_“I don’t have anyone at the Iron Tower, tonight,”_ Nick Fury said. “ _And no one else does, either. Sit tight; I have people coming your way. We’ll roust our soccer mom friends and see what they’re up to.”_

“Roger.” He frowned, though, when the headlights on the van turned on. “They’re _moving_.”

_“Where to?”_

“I’ll keep you apprised.”

He started his car, but held back, waiting to see what unfolded.

><><><> 

Fury looked over at Natasha.

“What do you think?”

“I think I’m going to take a drive into the city,” she told him, seriously. “Just in case I’m needed.”

“Take some people.” She gave him a look, and he shrugged. “Just in case.”

The assassin nodded, and Sam stepped up.

“I’ll come. If nothing else, we can always stop in and say hi to Peter, right?”

“I’ll come, too,” Steve agreed, walking into the small room, having been alerted by listening in on the radio chatter. “Just in case.”

“We leave in a few minutes,” Romanoff said.

><><><>>< 

“That’s amazing, Peter,” Ned said, shaking his head. “You must be freaking out; finding all this out after so long without knowing.”

“Yeah, it’s a lot to take in. But it’s exciting, too,” he added. “And if it comes out, it would be proof that Tony isn’t my dad. We looked at some of the pictures they have of him – I look a lot like him, really.”

“Could you imagine if Mr. Stark was your father, though?” Ned said, as he fished out a key to the secured door in the side alley of the building the comic store was in. He opened it and held it for Peter and the dogs, and then made sure it was closed, tightly, behind them. “You’d be such a target for kidnappers.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you kidding?” he mimed picking up a phone and holding it to his ear, and then distorted his voice. “Tony Stark. We have your son and if you want him back, you’ll pay us a billion bucks. In small, unmarked bills.”

Peter laughed as they walked up the stairs to the Leeds’ apartment.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that. I’m not worth anywhere near that.”

“I know. But I’m just saying…”

They reached the door, and Peter took both leashes.

“We’ll wait out here,” he said. “No sense getting your floors all wet with paw prints.”

“I’ll be right back.”

><><><> 

“Think he’s in there for the night?”

“No. They don’t have any supplies. Dogs that big need a lot of shit – especially food. They probably just wanted to get a comic book or something. We’ll wait.”

The dark coloring of the van allowed it to blend seamlessly with the dark of the night and the darkness of the alley. A darkness that grew even darker with a well-place silent shot to the only overhead light that illuminated the area.

They backed the van into the position they wanted, and settled in to wait, watching the area around them – as well as the door to the building.

><><>><><> 

_“I’m going to need backup, guys…”_

The call came through every SHIELD communicator at the same moment, and was instantly routed to all Avenger communications, as well.

“What’s going on, Andy?” Sam asked.

_“I think they’re setting up to make a play on Protégé and his friend.”_

“We’re on our way, now. Fury? Anyone closer?”

Their position would show on the same display they were using.

_“Assets are being assembled as we speak. Hold them in their position, Nelson.”_

Fury’s voice was calm – as always – but there was no mistaking that he was paying careful attention to the events that were unfolding.

_“I will.”_

The SHIELD agent was also calm. He was well trained and knew his job. Otherwise Romanoff wouldn’t have tapped him to be watching Peter Parker, who was obviously someone important – but he was pretty sure the kid _wasn’t_ Tony Stark’s son, no matter what the papers and news were putting out there.

He looked at his display, and then tapped it, when the screen suddenly showed only static and lines. That wasn’t right.

He tapped his communications.

“Guys? There-“

All he heard was static and white noise over the comm, now, and he swore, knowing immediately what was happening. Turning his headlights off, he pulled his sedan up to the side of the street that opened to the alley and parked it, making sure to leave it accessible – and where the others would see it. He grabbed the shotgun from under the seat and double-checked the load on his S&W Shield, and then carefully shut the car door, making as little noise as possible.

><><><>

“Jammer’s on.”

“Good.”

“The kid isn’t going to have a com-link. It’s a waste of time to jam the neighborhood – _and_ it’ll draw attention to us.”

“Only for a minute. Besides, it’s Tony fucking _Stark_ , okay? If anyone is going to give a kid a high-tech communication capability, it’s going to be him. Shut up, okay? And be ready with that trank gun.”

><><><>>< 

_“Boss? Something’s happening…”_

Tony’s arm stopped in mid-motion, lowering the drink that he’d been about to take a sip of.

“What?”

_“Uncertain. I’m hearing a lot of radio chatter with SHIELD and Avenger communications. Something about someone they’re calling Protégé.”_

“Do we know who that is?”

_“Never heard the word – but they’re saying Protégé and his_ friend _. That has me nervous…”_

Tony could understand why.

“Hold on.” He moved away from the bar, toward a quieter corner of the room, and lifted his watch.

“FRIDAY? Are you hearing the same thing Happy is?”

_“Yes.”_

“Do we know who Protégé is?”

_“Looking through files, now,”_ she told him, her voice as calm as always. _“No information, yet. Hacking the deep files.”_

“Where’s Peter?”

_“He and Ned haven’t returned, yet. They haven’t been gone long enough to be concerned.”_

“Call him for me, will you? I just want to check on him.”

_“Calling Peter Parker, now.”_ There was a slight pause. “ _No answer – and the signal from his watch isn’t responding. I’m picking up a device jammer in use.”_

“At the apartment?”

_“Close by Ned’s apartment.”_

“Call the apartment.”

He looked up when a hand touched his shoulder, and saw Pepper had joined him – alert as always to everything going on around her.

“What’s up?”

“I’m not sure, yet.”

><><><><> 

“Jesus, it’s dark out there, all of the sudden.”

“Yeah. What was your dad yelling about?”

Ned snorted, shrugging.

“The TV isn’t working – probably an issue with the cable, or the _feed_. He wanted me to take a look, check the cable company's systems to see if I could save them the trouble of calling in a tech – and so that he doesn’t miss _Survivor_ – but my mom told him that you were waiting in the hallway, and she wasn’t going to let me keep you out here with the dogs any longer than necessary.”

“That was nice of her.”

“Yeah. But when we get back to your place, I’m going to borrow your internet to see what I can find out for them, okay?”

“Sure.” Peter grinned; he loved having brilliant friends. And Ned definitely qualified. As _both_. “FRIDAY could probably help with that.”

“Sweet.” He opened the door to the alley, and held it again, while they pulled up the hoods on their jackets. “That would be so cool. She could probably-“

“Wait.” Peter suddenly stopped, just as Ned was turning to close the door. “ _Something_ -“

Before he could say anything else, they were suddenly blinded by twin spotlights. Both brought a hand up to shield their eyes, and Peter heard an odd pfft sound – like an air rifle being fired, or maybe a paintball gun. He heard it, again, heard a yelp and tried to look down at Bob, but then heard another and felt a sharp pain in his side.

“What?”

That was from Ned, who sounded confused, and Peter turned toward him, and suddenly felt a lassitude spreading through his entire body, and a pain that spread from the initial spot on his side to every part of him.

“Hey…”

Rough hands were suddenly grabbing him, and even his superb reflexes failed him. The pain and weakness overwhelmed his attempt to struggle, and the last thing he saw before everything went dark was the inside of a van of some sort and Ned being roughly shoved into the space beside him.

“We’ve got him! _Move_!”

He tried to say something; his mind screamed for him to call Tony, or FRIDAY – but he blacked out, instead.


	173. 173

It happened ridiculously quick. Quick enough that even Nelson – experienced as he was – had still been surprised. He couldn’t even imagine how shocked the kids had been.

Just as he was rounding the corner of the alley the he’d seen the lights come on. The bulk of the van blocked them from him, which kept them from blinding him, and he raised the shotgun just as the van’s headlights came on, lighting him up and exposing him, completely.

He didn’t wait.

The soothing sound of heavy rain hitting the ground was suddenly shattered by the loud boom of a shotgun blast, and the sound of shattering glass. Immediately followed by the rev of an engine and the squeal of tires as the van accelerated toward the SHIELD agent. The shotgun went off, again, Nelson holding his ground, trying to get a killing shot on the driver.

The second blast went through the already spidered glass of the windshield, but he didn’t have a chance to see the results. He was out of time. He dove to the side, grunting when the fender of the vehicle clipped him, knocking him violently into the side of a dumpster. The SHIELD agent rolled, automatically finding and memorizing the license plate, and he tried to get to his feet, even as lights started coming on in the buildings around him.

No one came outside, though. It was New York, after all. Even people living in the nice neighborhoods knew better than to put their noses where they didn’t belong.

Nelson bit back a pained groan and a curse as he struggled to his feet, and limped toward the place the van had been parked, already started to look for evidence; the van, the abductors, the kids – and even the _dogs_ – were gone.

He tried his radio, again, but whatever was breaking it up was still working, because his communications weren’t. Wiping the blood from his forehead, absently, he kept trying his radio, knowing that if the jammer had been in the van, it couldn’t have too much range and would lose its effectiveness as the van gained more distance from the alley.

He’d eventually get through to someone – but the van was getting away and no one knew it, yet, but him.

><><><>> 

_“We need to go, boss,”_ Happy radioed, just as FRIDAY was trying to tell him the same thing.

Tony must have paled, because Pepper suddenly had her hand on his arm, looking worried.

“What is it?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

“FRIDAY and Happy are listening in on SHIELD radio communications. They…” he realized that there were others within hearing, and as scared as he suddenly was, he didn’t want anyone – especially the people in the room at this particular party – to know anything about what was happening. He took her hand, and turned toward the door. “Come on. We need to go.”

He didn’t wait for her to agree. Didn’t wait to see if her expression was annoyed as he hurried her through the exit and down a well populated hallway. His free hand called Happy, and by the time they were walking out the door with a minimally polite thank you to their startled hostess, the car was pulling up to get them.

Tony didn’t wait for Happy to open the door. He did it, himself, and ushered Pepper into the back of the car, then followed.

“What do we know?” he asked his driver through the lowered partition.

“Someone just grabbed Peter and Ned.”

“What?” Pepper looked shocked, turning from Happy, to Tony. “ _Your_ Peter? _Our_ Peter?”

“FRIDAY?”

_“SHIELD had an agent outside the apartment. He radioed asking if there was any other surveillance he didn’t know about, as there was a van he didn’t recognize.”_ A display dropped from a panel above them, and it showed the same surveillance footage SHIELD and Natasha had brought up a short time before. _“The agent then asked for reinforcements as he suspected something was happening. He followed, but communications were lost – as the result of a portable jamming device. When contact was reestablished, the agent advised the van has left, taking Peter and Ned – and the dogs – with them.”_

“We’re _sure_ it was them?”

_“They haven’t mentioned them by name over communications, but Peter hasn’t returned to the apartment with Ned, and my calls aren’t being answered. His phone and his watch are both still being jammed – as is Ned’s cell phone.”_

“SHIELD was watching my place?” Tony repeated, stunned. Not by the surveillance, but by the sudden loss of Peter – and the very real fear that whoever had him was going to hurt him. “Why?”

_“According to the files I’ve broken into, Agent Romanoff initiated the surveillance two days ago,”_ FRIDAY reported.

“The day the stories started coming out that Peter’s your son,” Pepper pointed out, opening the minifridge and pulling out a bottle of water and handing it to him.

“Yeah.”

Which meant Romanoff had suspected something might happen. _Tony_ hadn’t even considered the possibility.

><><><><> 

The alley was teeming with agents.

The area was roped off, and even in the driving rain – which was coming down harder than ever – they had forensic people out examining every inch of the ground for evidence.

Happy was forced to park almost a block away, despite his anxious passenger, and Tony was out of the car before the engine had been turned off. Happy came around and offered Pepper an umbrella as she got out, as well.

“I could get someone to take you home,” he offered.

“No. I should be here,” she said. “I’d just pace at home, waiting to hear something.” They both watched Tony vanish down the street at a fast walk. “Besides, he might need someone – in case something happens.”

“Kidnappers aren’t going to hurt him,” Happy said, reassuringly, as he closed the door and opened his own umbrella. “They’re after _money_. They don’t get anything if they injure their captive. He’ll be fine.”

“He’s just a _baby_ …” Pepper said, following in Tony’s wake, but at a slower pace. “He must be terrified.”

><><><> 

Romanoff and Steve were at the center of the controlled chaos, which didn’t surprise Tony, at all. He didn’t have any trouble getting access to the alley, despite the agents that were keeping the area secured. Everyone knew who he was, after all, and his arrival had been anticipated – even though no one had called him in. There was a shelter of sorts, keeping the rain off the small group coordinating things, and bright lights were illuminating the area, despite the torrential rain.

Both looked up as he entered the area.

“What do you have?” he asked, without preamble.

“Someone grabbed the boys.”

“I _know_ that,” Steve,” Tony said, impatiently. “I _know_. But who? And where are they? Is it a kidnapping? Or something else?”

“We’re working on all of that. Sam’s up in the air, now, trying to get a lead on where they are – and we’re checking traffic cameras.”

“They’re using a jammer,” Romanoff told him. “But that’s not going to work for them.”

“You’re watching for the dead area?”

“Exactly. A city like New York doesn’t have anywhere that isn’t bustling with electronic activities. If they keep using the jammer, we’re going to find them.”

“And if they turn it off, we’ll be able to track Peter’s watch,” Tony added.

“Right.”

“Do we know how they did it?”

“Smash and grab.”

“Peter’s too strong for someone to be able to grab him.”

“They used a trank gun,” Steve said, reaching for a little plastic bag. He held it up and Tony could see a cartridge. “The lab guys haven’t had a chance to see what kind, but it must have been fast acting, because you’re right; they never should have been able to take Peter so easily.”

“They took Ned, too?”

“And the _dogs_ , according to Nelson.”

“Who?”

“Andy Nelson. The SHIELD agent watching the apartment,” Romanoff replied.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were watching the place?” Tony asked.

“Because you didn’t need to know.”

“I didn’t need to know that you suspected something might _happen_?” He was scared, and worried, and that translated into angry. So he was lashing out. Predictably. “I could have kept this from happening. I never would have left him. He-“

“I _suspected_ ,” Natasha interrupted, her voice calm. “But I suspect _everything_. That’s what I do. There was no reason for you to know until I had something concrete to tell you.”

“But now-“

“This was way too professional for it to be connected with someone thinking that Peter’s your son,” Steve said. “That’s only been out for a couple of days. No one could have planned it so quickly. Not with SHIELD watching him.”

Tony scowled, looking over at the entrance of the shelter, where Happy and Pepper were coming in, shaking water off their umbrellas.

“Which means what?” he asked.

“It’s something _else_ ,” Natasha said.

><><><><> 

Someone was shaking him and whispering his name, urgently.

“Peter!”

Pain spread through his entire body at the motion, and he groaned, opening his eyes, groggily.

“Ned?”

“Jesus. I thought you were fucking _dead_ , or something.”

Peter shook his head, trying to clear it, but there was a terrible pounding behind his eye and he couldn’t concentrate.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Someone grabbed us.”

“What? Who?”

“I don’t know. I just woke up, and here we are.”

Peter tried to sit up to look around, but Ned had to help him. They were in a room. There wasn’t much to look at; a single light bulb on the ceiling and absolutely no furniture to speak of. No windows. Nothing to indicate where they were. But his enhanced vision did notice a very small camera in the corner – almost invisible if you weren’t aware that it was there.

Or if you were able to see in the dark.

Someone was watching them.

“How long have you-“

He was interrupted by the sound of keys on the other side of the door, and the knob rattling a moment later. As he and Ned watched, the door opened, and three men walked in. All big, all carrying guns, which were pointed at them, immediately.

The one who spoke was dark, disheveled and his eyes were cold as he looked at Ned for just a moment before turning his attention to Peter. His voice was heavily accented, when he spoke.

“Oh, am I pleased to finally have a chance to meet you, _Spiderman_. You’re in for a very rough day.”


	174. 174

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as a trigger waring: there is a little bit of a beating in this chapter.

If the man was looking for a reaction, he was to be disappointed by the one he got from Peter. The boy was having enough trouble concentrating around the pain in his head and his side, he couldn’t have recoiled in fear at the threat for the life of him.

He _did_ , however, automatically try to form a denial on the whole Spiderman thing.

“What are… I’m… it’s-“

The man took the few steps needed to cross the little room and with the hand that wasn’t holding the gun, he grabbed a handful of Peter’s hair, wrenching his head back, forcing him to look up at him.

“If you had any idea how much money you cost me, you little son of a _bitch_ …”

He pulled him to his feet by that same handhold, ignoring Ned’s automatic protest at his friend’s treatment. The other two men pointed their weapons at the larger boy and the sight allowed Peter to rouse from his confusion and pain.

“Don’t…”

The man holding him snorted; an angry sound, and turned Peter painfully around, shoving him toward the open door.

“ _Think_ about trying to escape and I’ll put a bullet in his head.”

Ned watched in dismay as they took Peter away, and slammed the door behind them, locking him in the room, once more – only _alone_ , now. He automatically tried the doorknob, but wasn’t surprised to find it wouldn’t turn.

Uncertain, he walked around the little room. He wasn’t sure who the man had been talking to when he made the threat about trying to escape; him or Peter, but it didn’t matter, really. _He_ didn’t see any way out of the room – and he wracked his brain trying to think of a way to help Tony Stark find them.

He had to be looking by now.

>><><>>>< 

They took him to another small room.

This one had a chair, and a little stainless-steel table with an odd clear cube on it, and a few other items, but Peter didn’t have a chance – or the inclination – to look around as he was shoved to the floor, landing in a silent heap. No furniture and no windows. He grasped his side, absently feeling a small swollen bump, but was still unable to gather his thoughts before the man spoke, again.

“Strip him down and string him up.”

Before he could struggle, he was grabbed and pulled once more to his feet. Rough hands took his and his wrists were tied together with rope, and then attached to another rope that led up to a pully on the ceiling. One of the men jerked the rope, bringing Peter’s arms up over his head, holding them there, while the other took a knife and cut the sweatshirt and t-shirt he was wearing off – then did the same to his jeans. Soon all he was wearing was his boxers.

“I can’t believe how _young_ you are…” the man said, walking over, studying Peter, who was trying to focus on him. “A boy. A _pretty_ one, at that – which is too bad, because now that I see you, I would _love_ to keep you as a pet. I can’t do that, though, Spiderman. Do you know _why_?”

Peter didn’t answer, trying to look around, struggling, now, to free his arms from the uncomfortable position, but held firm by the cruel rope. One of the men slapped him, hard, jerking his head to the side with the force, and making him yelp, more from surprise than pain – although it _definitely_ hurt.

“Answer him.”

“What?” he wasn’t even sure that he remembered the question.

“Do you know why I can’t keep you?” the man repeated.

Peter shook his head, and realized that he could hear barking in the distance, somewhere.

Impatient, the man slapped him, again; another stinging blow.

“Why?”

“Because I have to make an object lesson out of you. You stuck your nose where it didn’t belong, and cost me three men – and two very pretty pieces of merchandise. So I have to make sure that the next would-be superhero doesn’t even think about getting in my way.”

“I didn’t…” Peter winced at a stabbing pain in his head, a distraction from whatever he’d been planning to say.

“You _did_. You thought you were pretty clever, didn’t you?” his face was getting red, and he was spitting as his voice rose. “You and fucking _Ironman_. Well, _he_ isn’t here, right now, but maybe I’ll go catch him, next, and show Tony fucking _Stark_ what happens when someone gets in my way. Maybe-“

“Boss.”

Clearly annoyed at having his ranting interrupted, he turned on the man holding the rope.

“What?”

“What do you want us to do with the other kid?”

“Nothing, yet. He’s going to keep Peter here from doing anything stupid. Try one of your clever Spider moves on me, and I’ll slit that kid’s throat right in front of you. Got it? _Answer me_!”

Another slap, and another yelp, and Peter tasted blood in his mouth.

He nodded, but the threat wasn’t necessary, really – although he didn’t say it. He was hurting so bad, just then that he couldn’t even concentrate enough to think of escaping – not that he _would_ with Ned still in their grasp. He thought maybe it was Boomer that he heard barking, and a little corner of his mind wondered if Bob was there, too, and how would he rescue the dogs and Ned. He had to focus.

His head was killing him, and his side was sending shooting pains along his ribcage.

_“Answer me!”_

Another slap.

“Yes.”

“So…” and now the voice was calm. “I could put a bullet in your head. Leave you in an alley dressed as the spider. That might do it. Might tell people to stay the fuck out of my way. But it might _not_ …” He walked to the table, and Peter’s gaze followed his motion.

He realized the cube was a box of some kind, and he recognized his phone and his watch inside it. The man picked up an object from next to the cube and Peter saw that it was a leather strap; a wide belt, maybe.

“If I beat the shit out of you, though…” he purred, dangerously, as he walked back, stroking the leather almost lovingly as he ran it through his fingers. “Mark you up and _then_ put a bullet in your head – or both knees, first, and _then_ your head. Show the _next_ superhero what happens to would-be crimefighters… well, that might do the trick. What do you think…? Think that would do it?”

“You won’t…”

He winced as another stab of pain went through his side, and then cried out as the man took a hard swing and slapped the leather strap against his side – almost in the same spot that was already bothering him.

“I won’t _what_? I won’t get _away_ with it?” Another stroke from the belt, this time across his bare chest. “You’ve seen too many _movies_ , kid. I _will_ get away with it. I’ve already gotten away with it.”

He was working himself up into a frenzy, now, and the blows from the belt began coming hard and fast, alternating between Peter’s front and back; his upper shoulders, the middle and small of his back and his legs.

“Don’t tell me I won’t get away with it!” he shouted, landing a blow with every word. “I already have…”

>><><><> 

“Sam, tell me you have something.”

 _“They turned the jammer off,_ ” came the reply over the communications. _“I was following the dead space for a bit, but it’s gone.”_

Tony turned to look at Natasha.

“FRIDAY? Find Peter.”

_“His signal is still being jammed, boss.”_

“They turned the thing off…” Steve said, frowning.

“Or they _compressed_ it,” Tony guessed, his expression worried and frustrated. “They don’t need to black out an entire block. If they know what it’s capable of doing, all they need to do is take it from him and put it near the device. Presumably with his phone – and _Ned’s_ – since FRIDAY can’t find either of them, as well.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, wracking his brain for anything. Anything that could help.

“They took the dogs?” Pepper asked, breaking into the frustrated silence. “Doesn’t Bob have a microchip?”

“It’s just an _identification_ chip,” Tony said. “In case he gets lost. It’s not-“ he stopped, eyes wide and suddenly alert. “FRIDAY? Access the veterinarian records for _Boomer_.”

“ _Boomer_?” Steve echoed. “Who-“

“Monica’s dog,” Tony said. “Is a guard dog. She told me that he was specially trained in a place in Germany to protect her and is worth a fortune. She mentioned a _Mr_. _Tracker_ – which is a ridiculous name, but it’s a _GPS_ chip. If-“

“ _Located the chip, and the frequency for Boomer Hansen,”_ FRIDAY interrupted.

“It’s not jammed?”

_“Location being sent, now.”_

They all looked at the display, and the small red dot that was blinking, idly, on the screen.

“I need my suit.”


	175. 175

The building wasn’t a large one. It was in the warehouse district, and surrounded by other, smaller, buildings that were used for storage and some office areas = as well as shipping and receiving. Within fifteen minutes of obtaining the location, the area was already under surveillance by the SHIELD agents who had been closest when the call went out.

“What do we have?” Steve asked Natasha at their hastily formed command center.

Thanks to their relationship with Tony Stark, SHIELD had some very good tech – and the Avengers weren’t above using it when needed. She pointed to a display showing the building they were focused on as well as the outer buildings. Thermal and video cameras showed all the figures outside, and penetrating radar tech showed an indication of all people inside the buildings.

“Seven people outside, guarding. All armed.” She pointed at them. “SHIELD has eyes on them – and Sam is watching them from above.”

“Inside?”

The display couldn’t show who was who, but they were able to discern the boys – simply by shape, in comparison to the others around them.

“Looks like this one is Ned,” Natasha said, pointing to a lone figure that was moving in what appeared to be a small room. “Tony will get him.” She pointed to other rooms. “Four targets here, maybe sleeping. Two here, and we’re pretty sure this is Peter with these three. I’m going to take them.”

“I can help.”

“No. I’ll take a couple of SHIELD guys. I can use you with the sleepers who might not be sleeping – and try to get the dogs, too, okay?” she said, pointing at another room, which held two smaller forms that had to be Bob and Boomer. At least, the GPS was emanating from one of them, so that’s what they were assuming. “I don’t want to have to tell Peter Bob was hurt.”

He had a suspicion that she didn’t want him with her, because she didn’t want to be governed by his slightly different moralities. Steve wasn’t going to argue, though; Natasha was the expert when it came to infiltration and stealth, and they didn’t want to risk anything going wrong.

“Where’s Tony?”

“Waiting for my signal. Let me know when you’re ready.”

He nodded and left.

><><><><><> 

“Think he’s had enough…?” The question was facetious, almost amused, and the man who asked it rubbed his shoulder, theatrically. “My arm’s tired.”

The two men chuckled, heartlessly, and the one who had been holding the rope that kept Peter’s arms above his head tugged on it, eliciting a pained moan from the boy who was hanging from it.

“He’s still awake,” the man said, with clinical detachment. “That’s pretty impressive, really…”

“Yeah. He’s a tough guy, huh? Why don’t we finish it, so I can get-“

A whisper of a sound, and suddenly three muffled shots were fired, and all three men dropped without a sound. The rope fell from nerveless fingers, whipped through the pully and released the tension that had been holding Peter upright. He fell, too, in a boneless heap.

“We’ve got Protégé,” Romanoff said over her communications, stepping forward and holstering her sidearm.  “I need a medic.”

Ignoring the dead men, and the sudden sounds of a firefight around the area, she dropped down next to the boy, making a soft sound of dismay at the sight of him.

Peter’s body was covered in welts and stripes, courtesy of a terrible beating with the leather strap she saw on the floor next to the man she’d killed. There wasn’t a lot of blood, luckily, but there was a lot of damage done, and the bastards had stripped him down to make it as painful as possible.

“Peter…?”

Her hand rested very carefully on a small area of his shoulder that seemed to be untouched.

He made a noise, but it wasn’t a reply to her.

_“Keep the bad guys from the east side,” she heard Tony say. “I’m going to get Ned.”_

><><><><> 

He’d been pacing the room since they’d taken Peter. Ned had found the camera, and had tried to reach it to see if there was any kind of interface that he might be able to utilize, but hadn’t been able to do more than touch it with the just the very tips of his fingers, even standing on his toes.

Ned suddenly heard the sound of a lot of yelling outside, somewhere – outside of the room, anyway. Uncertain, he went toward the door and then suddenly fell when the entire wall behind him suddenly imploded, sending pieces of wood in every direction and raining it down on him.

Startled, he looked over just as a figure in red and gold armor emerged through the hole in the wall.

_“Holy shit!”_

The faceplate detracted, revealing Tony Stark – who looked worried.

“Are you alright?” he asked, stepping up and offering the boy a hand up.

He’d already gotten a report from FRIDAY who told him Ned wasn’t injured.

“Yeah. They have _Peter_. I-“

“ _We_ have him.”

“Is he okay?”

“I haven’t seen him.” A shot fired, and Tony automatically put his arms around Ned, turning his body to make sure the metal of the Ironman suit was between the boy and any random shots. “Stay still for a minute,” Tony ordered, well aware that Ned was his responsibility and determined to keep him safe. “The place isn’t secured, yet.”

“Wow…”

It was scary, yes; but it was also exciting, Tony could tell.

><><><><> 

With one hand holding Peter still – which wasn’t a problem as he hadn’t moved since he’d fallen – Natasha watched as the two SHIELD agents cleared the dead bodies of weapons, first, and then moved them to the side, out of the way. While they did, Natasha examined Peter without moving him, unwilling to hurt him further and not seeing anything that might constitute any serious injury – just a lot of extremely painful ones.

“ _We’re clear,”_ she heard over the radio, recognizing the voice of the SHIELD agent who was responsible for taking all the perimeter targets.

She didn’t need the radio to hear the barking somewhere in the other part of the building. The door was open and it had intensified.

_“Does anyone know if we have some way to keep the other dog from chewing me up when I try to get him?”_

That was Steve, which told her that the rest of the building was secured.

 _“He was trained in Germany,”_ came Tony’s voice. _“It’s probably German. Peter would know. Wait, Ned said to say daunen to him.”_

The barking stopped, almost immediately, then, and there was a commotion at the door to the room, which had Romanoff turning, her hand going to her weapon, once more – just in case. It was a medic, and she waved him over.

“ _Got him, thanks_ ,” Steve said.

 _“Are we clear?”_ Tony asked,

She could hear the in impatience in his voice and knew he wanted to come check on Peter.

_“We’re clear.”_

“Jesus, he’s a mess…” the medic said, snapping his fingers at one of the other agents and ordering a couple of blankets. He already had a large first aid kit that he’d set down beside the silent boy. “What did they hit him with?”

“This,” Natasha replied, reaching for the strap, showing it to him and then flinging it to the side. “What can I do?”

“Keep him still.” The man was already pulling out a stethoscope and holding it against Peter’s chest without moving him. “I don’t like the way he’s breathing.”

“He took a hell of a beating,” she pointed out.

“There’s nothing to indicate any broken bones, though,” the medic told her, running gentle hands along Peter’s side, and frowning at the wheezing cough that was all he had in reply. “His breathing shouldn’t be affected.”

The blankets arrived at the same time Tony and Ned walked into the room. Ned hung back, but Tony went straight for Peter, still in his Ironman suit and clanking a little as he dropped next to Natasha.

“Oh dear _God_ …”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she said, quickly. “I mean, it is – but we’re not finding anything broken.”

“Doc?”

“He's in shock,” the medic said, pulling a blanket over the boy’s bare skin, but not covering his torso, because he was still trying to understand the trouble with Peter’s breathing. “And if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was in anaphylactic shock.”

“What?”

“That’s what it looks like – it’s what it _sounds_ like.”

Tony looked over at Ned, waving him over.

“Did they feed you guys anything? _Strawberries_ , especially?”

“No.” his eyes widened when he saw how badly injured Peter was. “Is Peter okay?”

“We’re working on it,” the medic said, distracted. His hand stilled on a swollen area of Peter’s side. “What’s _this_? How did they grab him?”

“Trank,” came Romanoff’s succinct reply.

The medic looked up at Ned.

“You, too?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How do you feel?”

“I have a little bit of a headache.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“No trouble breathing?”

Ned took a breath, just to make sure – and shook his head.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“He’s in anaphylactic shock,” he went for his first aid kit, but shook his head.

“I don’t keep an epi pen in my kit. We’ll need to get-“

“I have one,” Tony said, standing up and discharging the suit so he could step out of it. He immediately reached into his pocket, pulling the emergency medicine out and handing it over to the medic.

They all watched, silently, as the medication was administered and then the other blanket was draped over Peter, while Natasha moved to bring the boy’s head to rest on her thigh, brushing her fingers through his hair, gently, as they watched him, waiting for him to respond to the epi pen.

Tony knelt beside the medic, while everyone else stood, waiting.

There was a soft groan, finally, and Tony leaned a little, unable to stop his hand from going to his cheek.

“Peter?”

His eyes opened, but they were dull and tired. He looked around without lifting his head, gaze taking in Natasha, and then the medic before coming to a stop at Tony.

“Dad…” he trailed off, eyes closing as he lost consciousness, and Natasha smiled, well aware that the word he said wasn’t the word he’d intended to say – he just hadn’t finished saying it.

“Can we take him to the compound?” Tony asked. “Or should we get him to a hospital here?”

“He’s stable,” the medic told him. “We’ll take him to the compound.”

The room was quiet as they watched a stretcher arrive, the medics bundle Peter into more blankets and take off with their burden.

Tony looked at Ned.

“How do _you_ feel?”

“I’m okay… _scared_?”

“Yeah. We’re going to take you to the compound, too.”

“My folks?”

“We haven’t even told them what’s going on, yet,” Tony admitted. “We’ll take care of that, later, since you’re alright.”

“So Peter really _is_ your son?” Ned asked. “He said he wasn’t…”

“He isn’t,” Tony confirmed.

“But he called you _dad_ …”

“He’s delirious.” He ignored Natasha’s slight smile and got to his feet. “Happy will be here in a minute. Let’s go rescue Steve from the dogs.”


	176. 176

Despite having given the proper command, Steve was being watched suspiciously by Boomer, who looked relieved to see Tony when the billionaire walked into the room that Rogers and the dogs were in. Not as relieved as _Steve_ , though.

“How’s Peter?” he asked, assuming that Tony would have checked him before leaving his side.

“They worked him over pretty well,” Tony said, his expression a cross between concern and fury. It softened just a little when Bob stuck his large head into Tony’s hands, demanding some reassurances of his own. “They stabilized him, and he’s already on his way to the compound with Natasha and the medics.”

Steve nodded.

“We’ll clean things up here – the police have already arrived, so we'll make sure they know what we know. Then I’ll be there.” He glanced at Ned, who had Boomer’s leash in his hands, but was staring at Rogers in awe, and offered him his hand. “I’m _Steve_.”

“No _shit_ you are…” the boy flushed, hotly, as he realized what he’d said in his excited state, and took the hand, shaking it. “I’m sorry. My mom says I have a potty mouth and she’d have killed me if she heard that. Hi. I’m Ned.”

“I know.” Steve smiled; he was used to flustered kids. “Peter’s told me a lot about you.”

“He _did_?”

“Yes. I was looking forward to meeting you.” He grimaced. “Not like _this_ , however. Are you alright? Were you injured?”

“No. I’m fine. Holy shit, Mr. Stark blew this _huge_ hole in the wall and walked through and I totally expected him to say ‘ _come with me if you want to live’_ , but he-“

“Ned,” Tony interrupted, gently, once more with a myriad of emotions crossing his handsome features. This time amusement and relief that the boy hadn't taken any harm as near as he could tell. “You’ll have plenty of time to tell him what happened when we’re at the compound. He’s going to want to debrief you.”

“Really?”

Steve nodded.

“If you don’t mind?”

He was their only actual witness, after all – aside from Peter, of course – and they’d find out what he could tell them, too.

“Yeah. Of course. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you.” He turned to Tony, once more. “I’ll meet you out there?”

“We’ll debrief in the _morning_ , though,” Tony told him, taking Bob’s leash with a final pat to the dog’s side. “I’ll have Ned here checked – just in case – and then we’ll call his folks and settle him in a room.”

He also wanted to have the dogs checked out by a vet – just to make sure they hadn’t taken any lasting harm, either.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

“Yes.”

They left Steve to his clean up, and Tony led Ned and the two dogs to the front of the building, passing a few small pockets of SHIELD agents and law enforcement officers of all sorts – everyone talking in somber tones as they discussed what had happened and were cuffing some people, and covering others with sheets – depending on which Avenger or SHIELD agent the particular kidnapper had been in contact with.

“You left your Ironman suit in the room Peter was in,” Ned reminded Tony.

“Yes. It’ll have already been delivered to the car, by now,” he said. “It compacts a bit – kind of into a suitcase-sized package. That way it’s at hand if something comes up.”

“Wow.”

He smiled, thinking that Peter wasn’t the only one who said that word a lot. And lost his smile, thinking about how badly beat up his baby had been. The vivid lashes on the boy’s pale skin had been so raw and angry looking. He’d be surprised if Peter didn’t beg to stay at the Avenger compound, permanently, just to avoid the chance of something like this happening, again. He wouldn't blame him a bit if he did.

Tony was furious with himself for not doing a better job of protecting him. Natasha had suspected. _He_ should have suspected, as well. _SHIELD_ wasn’t responsible for taking care of Peter – or his well-being. Neither was Romanoff. That was Tony’s job. And he’d failed. Spectacularly.

“How’s Peter?” Happy asked as they walked outside into an even busier swarm of police, federal agents and SHIELD agents. There were flashing lights and emergency response vehicles everywhere, and the limo was parked in the only clear spot in the area. “Did you see him?”

“They’re transporting him out to the compound,” Tony replied. “He’s pretty beat up – and the tranquilizer they used knocked him back and almost killed him. But they said he was stable. This is Ned. Ned, this is Happy.”

“Peter told me about you,” Ned said to the driver, offering him his hand – and managing not to greet him with any expletives. “Hi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Happy said. “What did he say about me?” he added, as he led the way to the car and reached for the rear door handle.

“That you’re cool. And he likes you.”

“He said that?”

Bob hopped into the car, followed by Boomer. Ned stopped long enough to nod.

“Yeah.”

“Because it’s _true_ ,” Happy said, his expression also mixed emotions. Mainly concern for Peter. “I _am_ cool. Get on in, Ned.”

When the boy complied, Tony hesitated at the door.

“You got Pepper home, safely?”

“Yes. She said for you to call her the minute you know anything, and not to forget and leave her worrying all night, or she’ll – and I quote – _tear off one of the arms on your Ironman suit and beat you over the head with it_. Unquote.”

Tony grunted, but nodded.

“I’ll call her, now.”

“Any stops?” the driver asked, noting that Tony was still in his tuxedo from the party.

“No. I can change when we get to the compound.” He didn’t want to take the time to stop by the apartment. He wanted to go check on his baby. “We’ll find some clothes for Ned, there, as well.”

“And special treats for Boomer?”

“Anything he _wants_ ,” Tony agreed. “Let’s go.”

He got in and Happy closed the door behind him. Ned was already checking the back of the car out, and Tony wasn’t too surprised to see that he was touching everything, looking inside the minifridge and all the small cubbies and cupboards the posh interior afforded. Ned was very hands-on. Tony already knew that.

“This thing is awesome,” the boy said as Tony took the seat across from him, next to Boomer, who had claimed it as his.

Bob had taken his normal spot on the other seat, and Ned had joined him. Probably because it was closer to the interesting electronic panel – the displays, the stereo and the onboard communications.

“Yeah. Are you hungry?” he asked as the car moved, pulling carefully around all the other vehicles and moving aside as a firetruck came into the area.

“No. I’m good, thanks.” He hesitated, and looked behind him, unerringly finding the button that raised the partition between the front and the back. Then he leaned forward, uncertainly. "Is Peter going to be okay?"

Tony nodded.

"He's tough." But he was just saying that to make Ned feel better, because Tony hadn't seen anyone so beaten up and bruised as Peter had been. Certainly no one so young. "They didn't hurt you?"

"No. Just scared me." He hesitated. "I don't think it was a regular kidnapping, though..."

"No? Why do you say that?"

Ned looked uncertain.

“I don’t know,” the boy finally replied. “He didn’t say anything about ransom. He probably _would_ have, though,” the boy added. “With you being Peter’s dad, he’d be worth a fortune. I _told_ him-“

“I’m _not_ his father, Ned,” Tony corrected – _again_. He was so relieved that Peter hadn’t called him _daddy_ , but this was already getting old. “He must have told you about his parents?”

He knew Peter had asked if Tony thought that it would be okay to tell his friend all about them being SHIELD agents. He’d been so excited, the billionaire remembered with a soft smile, eager to tell someone what he’d learned.

“Yes. That they were with SHIELD.”

“See? He was probably so out of it that he didn’t know what he was saying.” Tony settled into the leather seat with a tired sigh. “I need to make some calls. Try to relax, alright? It’s a long drive.”

“Okay.”

Tony pulled his phone, watching as the boy rubbed Bob’s head when the mastiff put it on Ned’s leg, clearly looking for attention. He waited, making sure Ned didn’t need anything, and then called Pepper.

><><><><> 

Not too surprisingly – or maybe a _little_ , given how energetic he was – Ned was asleep when the car pulled into the compound. Both dogs had dozed off, as well. Not unusual for Bob, who liked to sleep, and Boomer was probably just following suit. The Rottweiler opened an eye when Tony moved – he _had_ to, since he’d settled his head in the billionaire’s lap and was losing his pillow – but he didn’t seem stressed, and he closed it, again, when Tony reached for the car door.

He didn’t wake Ned, or the dogs; instead anxious to go see Peter – who had arrived already and was being treated by Robert, who had called Tony while they were still on the way to verify the epi pen had been one supplied for Peter’s allergies.

“Wake him up,” he said to Happy, who had come around but didn’t need to open the door. “Then bring all three of them to the medlabs. There’s a vet waiting to check on the dogs, and Robert wants someone to make sure Ned wasn’t hurt and was too excited to realize it.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

He knew Tony wanted to go check on Peter.

“Make sure you find him some clothes, too, please?”

“Yeah. _Go_.”

He shooed him away, and Tony headed into the building.

He taken care of everything else. Now he needed to check on his baby, and take care of _him_.


	177. 177

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all, just a heads up. I disabled anonymous commenting because I was getting some anti stuff. Criticism (the constructive kind) is always welcome. being annoyed about Tony wanting to have sex with Peter after working through 62 chapters is a bit much, though, lol.  
> Anyway! keep the comments coming, I do love to hear what you're thinking, and I appreciate everyone who has been reading along with this. I know it's a long one - and no end in immediate sight, either.

It was Nick Fury who was standing outside the door of the room that Tony was guided to by FRIDAY. The former director of SHIELD had his arms crossed and was watching the interior of the room. He turned his head when Tony approached.

“Have you seen what they did to him?” he asked without preamble.

The billionaire nodded.

“I saw him before they moved him.”

“Who does that to a _kid_?”

It was clear that Fury was furious.

“Someone dead,” Tony answered, stopping at the door, as well, and looking inside the room.

There was a small group of medical personnel around the bed that presumably held Peter – he couldn’t see, since Natasha was also in the room and she was blocking his line of sight.

Nick wasn't surprised by the response.

“Romanoff led the infiltration team?"

“Yeah.”

"Was it a kidnapping attempt?"

"Ned said they didn't mention ransom around him."

“Who?”

“Peter’s friend.”

“The one grabbed with him,” Fury said, nodding. 

“Right.”

“You don’t torture someone if you’re going to ransom them.”

“No, I don’t think so. They weren’t wearing masks, though, when I saw them, so they weren’t trying to hide their identities.”

Meaning that they didn’t care, because most likely they had no intention of letting Peter leave alive to identify them to the others.

“We’ll find out exactly what they wanted,” Fury said, shrugging. “And then we’ll make sure no one ever does this, again.”

Tony nodded his agreement.

“Have you heard anything?”

Nick shook his head.

“They’re still working on him. No one seems to be panicking, though,” he added, trying to be as reassuring as he could.

While they were talking, Robert looked over just as the other medics moved away, leaving the room and brushing by Tony and Nick as they did. The doctor waved them in and both men entered the room, looking at the sleeping boy as they walked over to the bed.

“How is he?” Tony asked, watching Natasha settled herself on the edge of the bed near Peter’s head.

“Beat to shit,” Robert said, shaking his head in disgust. “The sonsovbitches stripped him down and beat him with a leather strap. He’s nothing but welts from neck to knees.”

“Anything broken?” Fury asked, expression still living up to his name.

“No. And we’ve determined that the sedative they used was latex based, which is why he went into anaphylactic shock. That was taken care of by the Epi pen, and might have been a blessing for Peter, because he was almost certainly already out of it by the time they really started beating him.”

“Small consolation,” Tony said, stricken at the thought of losing Peter.

“We’ll take what little we can,” the doctor told him, shrugging. “He’s going to be very sore for a while; some of the welts drew blood, and he’s going to be badly bruised. We’ll keep him heavily sedated through the worst of it, though. He’s a tough guy, but I’m not willing to allow him go through that if he doesn’t have to.”

“Did he wake at all?” Tony asked, once more looking over at the bed.

“Not since arriving here. The other boy came with you?”

“Yes. He seems fine.”

“But we’ll check him to make sure.”

“Please.”

“Bob wasn’t hurt?”

“Looks okay,” Tony agreed.

“We’ll make sure, though,” Robert said. “I’m not going to have Peter wake up and be told his dog isn’t 100%.”

“I appreciate that.”

The doctor nodded, tiredly.

“Go check on him, reassure yourself, and then get some rest.”

“I can’t stay with him?”

“No _reason_ to, really. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t wake up for a couple of days, at least.”

“But _can_ I?”

“If it’ll make you feel better. He’s not going to know you’re here, though.”

“I’ll risk it. Happy’s bringing Ned and the dogs.”

“I’ll go meet him.”

“Thanks, Robert.”

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything.”

The doctor left, closing the door behind him, and Fury walked over to stand next to where Natasha had settled.

“What do we know?” he asked her.

Aware that a hospital room wasn’t really the place for a briefing, but that neither man cared about formalities, she reached for a tablet and tapped a few inputs, then held up a picture of a man for them to see.

“This is Jan Maknor.”

“Never heard of him,” Fury said.

“Because he stays behind the scenes,” she told him. “Usually. That changed, however, when one of the men that Peter helped capture when he saved those two women turned on his boss – who turned out to be Maknor’s nephew.”

“Really…”

“Yes. The nephew made bail, the underling _mysteriously_ died in his cell at county and now, suddenly, Jan Maknor has a problem.”

“Because of Spider-man,” Tony said.

“Yes.”

"Think he figured out who Peter is?"

"It's a good guess."

“So this was about what, then?” Fury asked. “Getting even?”

“I’d say proving a point,” she disagreed. “Telling the next guy to stay out of his business – or proving that he’s not someone to be messed with.”

“What do we do to keep him from trying this, again?”

Tony already knew that answer.

“ _He_ won’t,” she replied. “He was the one holding the strap when I walked into the room they were keeping Peter in.”

She didn’t say anything else, but really, she didn’t _need_ to. Fury knew what that meant, and Tony recognized the man as one of the dead men in the room.

"And the _next_ criminal who wants to prove a point?"

There was silence. Even Natasha couldn't kill them all.

“Any idea how he knew who Peter was?” Fury asked.

“He knew Ironman was involved in helping Spider-man with the takedown of his nephew’s people, and probably started looking into it.”

“It didn’t help when the press started putting out that Peter is my son…”

She shrugged.

“He had the connection made by then, is my bet. This was in place and ready before that story broke – or we would have heard something once I set people to watching the place. His people were probably just looking for the right moment.”

“Which we handed him on a silver platter.”

“It won’t happen, again.”

“With _this_ guy,” Tony said.

“We’ll be better prepared,” she assured him. “It’s not going to happen, again, at all.”

He didn’t argue with her, but he wasn’t convinced, and they could all tell.

“Did he wake at all on the way in?” the billionaire asked her. “Did he talk to you?”

“No.” she set the tablet aside and reached into the pocket of her uniform, and handed him Peter’s watch and cell phone. “You were _right_ ; they were in a jammer box – with Ned’s phone.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled, knowing that he was grateful for more than just her giving him the phone and watch, and she stood up and slid her hand along his back, supportively.

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

She and Fury left him, then, and Tony put the phone and watch in his pocket, sat in the spot she’d vacated, and looked down at Peter. His face was pale, but despite the beating he’d taken, there was only a small bruise on his cheek. The rest of the damage was covered by several warmed blankets – and bandages, he saw, pulling the blankets aside for just a moment.

He covered him back up, knowing if he was awake he’d complain about being cold, and not wanting to see him shiver. Tucking the blankets around the slight form, he leaned over and pressed his cheek against Peter’s, holding still for a moment, before pulling back. Then he fished Peter’s hand from under the blanket and held it in his own, setting them both on his thigh.

“So… you look moderately horrible – just so you know…” he said, softly, feeling his eyes stinging even as they blurred from tears. He wiped them, impatiently, and sniffed. “It’s okay, though,” he added. “Because you’re still beautiful, honey. Still daddy’s wonderful boy. Still brave, and amazing…” his voice cracked. “Still amazing. Always amazing to me.”

There was no answering flush. No shudder of delight at the words, but that didn’t matter. It it was still important to him that Peter know what he thought – and he was certain he could hear him, even unconscious.

He brought the hand up to his lips and kissed it, tenderly, before bringing it back to his leg.

“I love you, Peter Parker.”


	178. 178

It was almost an hour later when Bob walked into the room and interrupted Tony’s silent vigil with a cold nose stuck into the billionaire’s side. He smiled, letting go of Peter’s hand and rubbing the mastiff’s ears, looking toward the doorway, since he knew the door to the room had been closed. Bob was amazing, too, but he hadn’t figured out how to open doors, yet.

Sure enough, Robert had returned, and he was holding Boomer’s leash.

“The dogs have been thoroughly checked,” he announced, walking into the room. “They’ve been given a clean bill of health – and have been fed a good dinner.”

“Thanks, Robert.” He looked down at Peter, as if hoping that Bob’s presence might have woken the boy. There was no change to his expression, though. “What about Ned?”

“They’re finishing with him, right now. Which is why _I’m_ here.”

“Because?”

“Because _you_ have things that need to be taken care of, so I will keep our young friend here company until you’re done.”

“What? _No_. I’m good. I-“

“You need to get Ned settled into a room and show him where he can find everything. You need to make sure the dogs are taken care of, and you need to change out of the clothes that you’re wearing, and into something a little less _formal_.”

“Steve can settle Ned.”

“He’s still gone, from what I understand.”

“Then Nick or Sam-“

“Tony,” the doctor interrupted. “Why are you arguing with me?”

“Because I want to stay with Peter,” he answered, honestly, raw enough ,still, that he couldn’t dodge the question with his usual attempt at deflection.

“I’ll stay with him.”

“But-“

“Who is his doctor?”

Tony scowled.

“You are.”

“That’s correct. Me. Moi. Akin. _Cho_. I will stay with him, just to make sure he doesn’t wake up alone, while you handle everything that needs handling. Then, when you have, you can return and spend a little more time with him.”

“Did you just speak _Klingon_ to me?”

“Fascinating, isn’t it? Get out of here. Go take care of our young guest before he gets himself into trouble, or drives the others crazy with all his questions.”

“Fine.” He stood up, looking at Peter once more, before slapping Bob’s side to make sure the dog knew to come with him and taking Boomer’s leash. “Where is he?”

“Two doors down.”

“I’ll be back.”

“I know.”

With both dogs walking with him, Tony walked down the corridor and found Ned sitting on an examination table, cheerfully checking out all of the equipment that was surrounding him while talking to a medic who was sitting close by at a small computer station. His eyes lit up when Tony tapped on the door, and he grinned.

“Hey, Mr. Stark. How’s Peter?”

“Resting. How do you feel?”

“I’m fine. They found a couple little cuts, but nothing broken and no indication of any adverse reaction to the drug that messed Peter up so badly.”

“Good.” He looked at the medic who had been fiddling with a tablet, obviously checking the results of the tests they’d done. “Is he good to go?”

“Yes.”

“C’mon, Ned. Let’s find you a place to lay your head for the night.”

The boy hopped off the table and headed for the door.

“Can we look around?” he asked.

“Not tonight. It’s late. Do you think your mother would be better off if we called and woke her up to tell her what happened? Or should we wait until _morning_? Which would upset her the least?”

“Oh. Yeah, we definitely better call her tonight. If she finds out something happened and that I didn’t let her know as soon as possible, she’ll skin me alive and then kill me, bury me, dig me back up, and perform CPR so that she can do it all over, again.”

Tony smiled.

“Fair enough.”

“And, no offense, Mr. Stark,” Ned added. “But _I_ should be the one to call her. I know how to break it to her without freaking her out – and she’d want to talk to me anyway.”

“You know her best,” he agreed. "You aren't going to use some kind of Men in Black memory thing on me, are you?"

“No.”

“Good. Because that would suck.”

While they’d been talking, they’d made their way toward the guest VIP rooms, and Tony opened the door to the closest one, waiting for Ned to precede him into the room.

“We’ll put you in here for the night.”

The boy looked around, taking in the spacious room and the fine furnishing – but probably checking out the giant TV and the built in computer system and the displays.

“Wow.”

“I’m glad you approve.” He seated himself on the arm of the sofa, while Ned went into the bedroom and checked it out, and did the same with the bathroom. “There are toiletries in the bathroom, towels, robe, anything you might need, tonight. Happy said he’d find you some clothes so you don’t have to wear the same ones you’re in now to bed, or in the morning.”

“Thanks.”

He fished Ned’s phone out of his pocket and tossed it to him.

“Call your mom. Let’s make sure she doesn’t mind you staying here, tonight, or if she’d rather I have someone take you home.”

“I hope not,” Ned answered. “I could stay here a year and never get bored.”

Tony had no doubt that that was anything but the truth.

><><><>> 

It was a small group sitting at one of the tables in the lounge when Tony walked into the room some time later. All of them looked up, and noticed that not only had he changed into jeans and a t-shirt with a zip up sweatshirt over it, his still damp hair was proof that he’d also taken time to get a shower.

He went to the bar and poured himself a drink before walking over to the table with it, and sitting down, heavily, next to Natasha.

“Where’s Ned?” Steve asked, curiously.

“In his rooms,” was the reply. “Probably hacking into our systems and getting ready to take FRIDAY over, any minute, now.”

Sam smiled.

“He’s a hacker?”

“He’s a very bright young man,” Tony said. Of course he’d already known that. “And not afraid to bend the truth a bit when speaking to his _mother_ – thank God.”

“Yeah?”

“He called her to tell her what happened.”

“Did she freak out?” Bruce asked.

“He didn’t give her a chance to do anything more than ask if everything was all right,” Tony replied, shaking his head in remembered amazement. “He told her that there was an _attempted_ kidnapping, and that the Avengers – including yours truly, Captain America and Black Widow – all came swooshing in with a bunch of SHIELD agents and saved the day. He failed to mention that they had been drugged and taken – only telling her that we needed him to stay at the compound until we could get everything straightened out and get statements, but that he was fine, and would call her in the morning to make sure she had enough coverage working the comic store.”

“And she was fine with that?” Steve asked, surprised.

The billionaire shrugged.

“She seemed to be. She had him let me talk to her, and all she did was ask if I needed her to come get him tomorrow.”

“And you said…?”

“That we would deliver him safe and sound as soon as we were done with him – sooner if she needed him – and she should call me if something comes up.”

“Huh.”

“He’s _smooth_ ,” Tony said.

“Where are the dogs?”

“With him. He’ll make sure they go out in the morning – I showed him the closest exit to the guest rooms. Happy showed up just as I was leaving with a stack of clothes – all Avenger and SHIELD, so he was excited.”

“Tell me you told him not to go wandering around…?” Steve asked.

“Of course. He won’t. When he gets up, he’ll call me, and we’ll get him some breakfast and debrief him. His mother gave me permission to talk to him, so we won’t even need to have someone bring her in.”

“Are you staying with Peter, tonight?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

“Make sure you call me when you need a break,” Romanoff said, reaching out and brushing her hand against his arm, briefly, and then smiling, slightly. “Don’t be hogging him all to yourself, or we’ll revolt.”

The others nodded their agreement, and he nodded, as well, even though he had no intention of letting Peter out of his sight once he returned to the little room in the medlab.

“I’ll call if I need anything.”

“Do you need anything, now?” Steve asked.

“No.” He downed his drink in a single gulp and stood up. “Call me if anything comes up, okay?”

“Yeah. Try to get some rest,” Romanoff told him.

“Right.”

They watched him leave, and Sam shook his head.

“You know he isn’t going to call us, right?”

“He won’t _need_ to,” Natasha assured them. “If he gets difficult, I’ll make sure he gets some sleep.” She looked at them all when they raised eyebrows, or gave her a look. “ _What_?” she asked, shrugging, nonchalantly. “It’s what I do best.”

“You’re _scary_ ,” Steve said.

She smiled.

“So you’ve mentioned, before.”


	179. 179

Robert was seated in a comfortable chair beside Peter’s bed when Tony returned to the little room. It hadn’t been there when he’d left and the doctor shrugged at the look the billionaire sent his way when he stood up and stretched, idly.

“No sense in being uncomfortable,” he pointed out. “Besides, you might be interested to know that in a lurch, it’s a good one to nap in.”

“Right.” Which was tacit permission to stay as long as he wanted. Which had intended to do all along, but now he knew that he didn’t run the risk of having someone come in and run him off and send him to bed. “Thank you.”

“Need anything?”

“No. Any change?”

“No. And there won’t be, Tony,” he said, kindly. “Not tonight, and almost certainly not tomorrow. Keep him company, though.”

If nothing else, it would make Tony feel like he was accomplishing something.

“Yes, I think I will”

Stark didn’t sit in the chair, though. He perched himself on the edge of Peter’s bed, once more, sitting as close as he could.

“I’ll be in to check on you guys later.”

He left without another word, closing the door behind him, and Tony sighed, and found Peter’s hand, again, rubbing it lightly with his fingers as he watched the boy’s face, intently.

“Hi, honey… it’s daddy,” he whispered, softly. “I know you’re tired, and I know you hurt, but I really wish you’d open your eyes and talk to me for a minute – just so I can make sure you’re okay…

Peter didn’t do what he was told, though, and Tony didn’t really press too hard. He knew there was a reason that Robert was keeping Peter sedated, and he agreed with it, really; why make Peter feel the pain from those terrible wounds if he didn’t need to?

But Tony wanted to see those beautiful eyes looking at him. Wanted Peter to know he was there with him, keeping him company and making sure that he wasn’t alone.  
Keeping him warm, if he needed to.

He kissed the hand, again, and then simply held it pressed against his chest with his own as he leaned over, careful not to allow any part of his body to rest on the boy.

“Daddy’s here, Peter,” he told him, pressing his cheek against Peter’s. “Don’t be afraid, okay? I’m here. We’re all here. You’ll see, honey.”

><><><>

It was a long night.

Tony spent it with Peter, but didn’t spend all of it sitting on his bed. Without the boy actually in his lap holding him down, physically, he found that he was prone to pacing, because he simply couldn’t sit still. He kept one eye almost constantly on the equipment that was monitoring Peter’s stats, but nothing changed all evening. The breathing, the heart rate, it was all stable.

He kept in constant contact with FRIDAY, as well, and the AI was keeping track of what was going on with the survivors of the raid that SHIELD had made on the small enclave of buildings.

They’d all been processed, and FRIDAY advised Tony that Fury had set up interviews (pretty much interrogations but sounding nicer) with all of them first thing in the morning to see how many of them – if any – knew Peter’s secret identity. Hopefully their boss hadn’t shared that information with just the little guys, but one never knew, and it was important that they find out how much – if any – damage had been done. The local law enforcement was fine with that – they liked the idea of collaborating with SHIELD (and, vicariously the Avengers). It did take a little more effort to get the FBI to agree to the idea, but Fury was well connected, and they had set up the entire morning for whatever was needed.

Tony reminded FRIDAY that he was going to want to have copies of all those interviews and had then gone back to sitting with Peter – this time with his hand in both of Tony’s with them tucked against his stomach – as close to a hug from Peter as he could manage, just then.

><><><<><

He was dozing in that same position when the sound of the door opening woke him very early the next morning.

A small group of orderlies arrived, and he reluctantly stood up and moved aside, stretching muscles that were stiff and sore from the awkward position. As he watched, they uncovered his baby and carefully changed out the medicated bandages that were wrapped around his torso, and each leg, working to heal the damages as quickly as possible since the boy couldn’t feel the pain of the medication, just then. Tony expected them to cover Peter back up, once they’d replaced all the bandages and had covered the stripes on Peter’s body and frowned when they started shifting him, instead – the motion actually elicited a soft moan from the boy, despite how heavily sedated he was.  
“What are you doing?” The billionaire asked, almost frantic at the thought that they were hurting his baby.

“We need to put him on his stomach for a while,” one explained, gently, as if he understood that Tony needed a little more than an explanation. “We don’t want his weight continuously on his injured back if we can avoid it – it’ll slow the healing process.”

Mollified, Tony hovered as they carefully positioned Peter on his stomach, and then changed his IVs and made sure he was covered, warmly, once more.

Bruce entered the room just as they were finishing.

“How’s he doing?”

“Seems the same,” Tony replied, sitting on the edge of the bed, once more, but now gently resting his hand on Peter’s shoulder, trusting the blankets and the bandages to keep his touch from hurting. “He hasn’t moved.”

“I’m going to watch him for a while.”

Tony frowned – as Bruce had known he would.

“It’s still early,” he pointed out. ”I’m alright with him for a while, longer.”

“I know, but I want to sit with him. Go get some rest – _real_ rest, in a _bed_ – and then have breakfast with Ned. I know Steve plans on debriefing him early, just to make sure he doesn’t have a chance to forget anything important.”

“Not Natasha?”

“She’s going to be taking over for me – so she’ll be here when you’re done and ready to check on him.”

Besides, Romanoff had access to SHIELD communications – and Tony. Bruce didn’t care for a fancy tech watch, and definitely didn’t want to wear an earpiece all the time.

Tony hesitated, but knew that it wasn’t going to do him any good to argue – because Bruce was at least as stubborn as he was, and they didn’t want to rile him up, really, by arguing too much with him.

“You’ll let me know if he wakes up?”

“Of course.”

“And you’ll talk to him?”

“Yeah. We need to discuss the finding of our last experiment, anyway. It’ll be a good chance for us to do that without any interruptions.”

“Like…?”

They were at the tower when they were working. There weren’t any interruptions.

“Like you.”

He seated himself on the edge of the bed and checked the IV line that was closest to him, ignoring Tony until the man realized that he was doing it on purpose and finally walked out of the med room without a look back.

He’d let his friends have a chance to spend time with Peter – he knew they loved the boy, too, after all – but he wasn’t going to stay away long.

Peter was Tony’s baby, and his responsibility. He had the video from the expo to prove it.

><><><><>>

Bruce waited until the door closed softly behind him, and then brushed his hand along Peter’s hair, noticing the small bruise on the boy’s cheek and glad he couldn’t see the rest of the damage done to his slim body.

His mind added _frail_ , but Bruce knew better. Peter had shown them that he could be hurt – and badly – but that there was a pretty tough kid under that good-natured façade.

“Hey, Peter,” he said, pushing the boy’s bangs back, only to have them fall right back into place. “I was thinking that when you’re better and they let you out of here, we might try running an experiment with a green light and tell Tony that it’s _gamma_ rays – just to see if that vein in his forehead pops out. What do you think?”

The boy didn’t answer, but that didn’t stop Bruce from coming up with several other ways to prank his friend.

Ways that he knew Peter would agree to when he was back on his feet.


	180. Chapter 180

It was the pain that woke him.

Not _excruciating_ , really, but everywhere – and so overwhelming that he couldn’t ignore it. It was like a toothache, but one that seemed to go from his head down as far as he could feel – which had been numb, he thought, but was now coming to life in prickles and tingles. And pain.

“Hold him, Tony…”

The voice was familiar, and he felt hands on his body. Touching those places that already hurt so bad. He couldn’t help the soft moan of pain that escaped his throat and then his lips, and then he felt someone leaning over him. Looming over him, and then something pressing against his cheek. Something that felt familiar, but he couldn’t figure it out past the pain in his head.

“Easy, honey,” Tony whispered in his ear, tenderly. “I’m right here…”

Peter recognized the sensation against his cheek as the coarse facial hair Tony grew on his jaw and chin, and he tried to lift his hand to confirm it – only to have someone take that hand and hold it, tightly.

“Please…” he whispered. It came out as a croak and he wasn’t sure if he understood what he said. He wasn’t sure that he did, even. “Don’t…”

“Shh…” Tony was crooning in his ear, his lips touching the delicate skin there. It would have felt good, except the pain was overpowering his senses and taking precedence. “Robert’s checking you out, Peter. I _know_ it hurts, hang in there, okay?”

“It _hurts_.”

“I know.”

“Make him stop…”

“We’re almost done, buddy,” Robert said, encouragingly, and Peter felt hands on his stomach. “I need to roll him, Tony.”

“No…”

He knew how much _that_ was going to hurt. His hand tightened on the one that was holding his.

“It’s okay, honey. We’re here.”

“Make…” he moaned again when he was suddenly being moved, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the tears of pain that were now adding their stinging to the rest of the pain that he was having trouble enduring.

The world behind his tightly closed eyes turned white, and then black, and then he stopped hurting.

><><><> 

Tony looked up from Peter, worried.

“Robert?”

“He’s fine, Tony,” the doctor assured him, nodding at his orderly at the same time. With a gentle, practiced move, they managed to turn Peter onto his stomach without dislodging any of the wires and tubes – or Natasha’s grip on his hand. “It’s not unexpected.”

“He passed out,” Romanoff said, also looking concerned.

Maybe even as concerned as Tony.

“He’ll be back. I want to get this finished before he is, though.”

They cut the bandages that were covering the boy’s back and shoulders, and then worked their way down the rest of his body as Tony and Natasha watched.

“Jesus…”

Tony shook his head, his hand stilling where it had been brushing loving fingers through Peter’s hair on the back of his head, just wanting to caress him. Peter’s back was a giant bruise, colorful stripes of black, purple and blue, mixed with the angry red of a couple of more serious welts that had opened and bled initially, but were now scabbing over.

Further down his body, his rear had also been bruised, but the boxers that he’d been wearing during the beating had given some small protection from the welts, and there wasn’t any bleeding. The back of his thighs and his calves were bruised, but they, too, were almost completely free of any welts. They were just striped with bruises.

“Yeah,” Robert agreed with Tony’s assessment. “It looks a lot worse than it is, though.”

“It looks pretty _bad_ ,” Natasha said, tightly.

“He’s pale; he bruises easily. We already knew that. They hurt – which we knew they _would_ – but not as bad today as they would have two days ago, and there isn’t any sign of infection. As long as we keep him still, I think we can keep him off the sedatives and stick with general painkillers for another few days. By then the bruising will be starting to fade and the cuts should be closing.”

“Scars?” Tony asked, watching as the orderly started gently dabbing the cuts – although they didn’t rebandage them.

Robert had said they would need some air to make sure they healed.

“Not on the _outside_ ,” the doctor replied. He took the hand that Natasha was holding, and held it up for the billionaire and the spy to look at. “This is the hand I stitched after the taxi incident, but the only reason I know that is because he has this weird pattern of freckles across the knuckle, here. No scars from the stitches, or the burn,” he added, turning it over and showing the palm. “It’s probably part of the spider thing. We already know he can take a fall that would kill most people – or at least break a lot of bones.”

He handed the boy’s hand back to Romanoff.

“His scarring is almost certainly going to be in his head – and with him off the sedatives, I want someone with him all the time. Someone who can handle him if he has a nightmare or a panic attack.”

“We’ve already cleared our schedule for the next few days,” Natasha told the doctor. “Steve and Sam can hold him down – and Tony, of course – with his suit.”

She would be close, as well. Even though she didn’t have the strength to hold the boy, she knew that she could stop a panic attack before it could build, if she caught it coming soon enough – and a gentle touch could soothe a nightmare.

“Good enough.” The orderly added a new bag to the IV stand, and Robert applied it. “I’ll be in and out all day. If he wakes, talk to him. Keep him still, if you can, because that’ll keep him from hurting those bruises.”

“Right.”

Natasha put Peter’s hand down on the bed, near the boy’s face, which was turned toward Tony.

“I have a few things I need to take care of, but I’ll be close if you need me.”

Tony nodded, and both men watched her leave, and the orderly leaving right behind her, closing the door after him.

“So, we know the damages done to Peter,” the doctor said. “What did you find out from the interrogations with the guys that grabbed him?”

“The majority thought it was a kidnapping,” Tony replied. “They seemed just a bit put out when Coulson told them that their boss had no intention of making a ransom demand.”

“Put out enough to turn evidence?”

“Yeah, some of them.” Tony shrugged. “They made deals, and they’ll get away with what they did, because they will be bait to catch bigger fish.”

“It’s a good thing.”

“I know.”

He did. Because it was going to bring down the trafficking empire that had been the focus of a lot of manhours for the FBI and some local law enforcement. But the price had been so high. Too high for him to be happy about it.

“It’s not like he got away with what he did…” Robert pointed out, knowing what he was thinking from the expression on his face.

Romanoff had made certain of that. Jan and his nephew were both dead. They hadn’t suffered as much as _Peter_ had – and was _going_ to – but Natasha had made certain with deadly accuracy that they weren’t going to be a problem for any of them in the future.

Tony had reservations about her cavalier ability to end a problem with deadly efficiency sometimes, but this time _he_ agreed, completely – and he thought that deep down, even Steve might approve. Although he wouldn’t _admit_ it, they all knew.

“I know.” He shrugged. “I _know_.”

Robert slapped his shoulder, and carefully covered Peter with a special blanket designed for caring for burn victims. Then covered that one with another, warmer, blanket to stave off any chill.

“Take a deep breath, Tony. He’s been awake, so we know he’s going to respond nicely to the treatment I’ve got him on. Just be with him and keep him out of trouble. I’m assuming you’re not working tomorrow?”

“No. I’ll be here until he’s better.”

And then he’d linger even longer. Just because.


	181. 181

_“There’s someone here for you, Tony…”_

Stark frowned, looking back toward the entrance to the building, but no one was there.

“Where are they, Clint?” he asked, speaking into the communicator on his watch.

He wasn’t expecting anyone.

It was Monday morning, but he’d already let Pepper know he wasn’t going to be in – and she hadn’t really expected him to be, he knew. Ned was home, safely, and while he still had Boomer, he’d made sure to let Monica know what had happened, so she would know that they were at the compound and her pride and joy was safe and sound with him.

_“Front entrance.”_

“I’ll be right there.”

He whistled for the dogs, who had been running around the field under Tony’s watchful eye, and both came obediently at the sound. Just in case, he snapped Boomer’s leash onto his harness, and then headed back inside, walking through the corridors and hesitating only a minute when he reached the cross hallway that led to the medical rooms.

Steve was with Peter, just then, and Tony had only been out of the room for half an hour or so and knew perfectly well that Rogers would call him if Peter woke – or if something happened. He kept going toward the main entrance, the dogs on either side of him.

He was surprised by the limo, until he realized that it was Monica’s. Then he was only mildly surprised – and he smiled when her driver opened the door and she emerged with a slightly worried smile and a huge arrangements of brightly colored flowers and a balloon.

“Tony…” she handed the driver the flowers and hugged the billionaire, briefly, before leaning down to wrap her arms around a suddenly very excited Boomer. “I thought I’d save you the trouble of bringing my boy home,” she explained as she straightened up. “How’s Peter?”

“He’s pretty out of it, still.”

Tony hadn’t told her exactly what had happened. Only that there had been a kidnapping attempt and that Peter had been hurt in the process.

“Can I see him?”

He nodded, without hesitation. If it had been anyone else who wasn’t an Avenger, the answer would have immediately been no – Pepper being the only exception. But Peter loved Monica, and if he was awake, she would be a good distraction from the constant pain he was in.

“Sure. Come with me.” He reached for the flowers before she could, and handed her Boomer’s leash, instead “He’s not very coherent, right now,” he warned. “He’s heavily medicated for pain management, and has been sleeping a lot as a result.”

Point in fact, Tony had been with him all night Sunday, and Peter had only woken once, had complained of being cold, and had gone back to sleep before Tony even managed to cover him with yet another blanket.

“I’ll take my chances,” she told him as she walked with him into the building.

“How was your trip?”

“My friend is a drama queen,” Monica replied rolling her eyes with amusement. “She goes to the doctor and is told she’s healthy, and then suddenly all she can think of is that the doctor doesn’t want her to be worried, so he’s lying to her and she’s going to die any minute.”

Tony smiled at that.

“Is she?”

“Of course not. But it gives me a good reason to go visit – and we don’t see each other enough.”

They stopped just long enough for Tony to open the door to Peter’s medical room, and Steve looked up as they walked in. Rogers was seated in the chair by the bed, and Peter was, once more, sleeping on his belly, to give the wounds on his back a chance to heal. _And_ because they assumed it hurt the boy less to be off those same injuries.

Peter didn’t notice their arrival, but Steve stood up, politely, as the older woman walked across the room.

“I’m Steve,” he introduced himself with a smile and an extended hand. “You must be Monica.”

She smiled.

“I am.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, as well. But I remember hearing _more_ about you when I was younger…” she added. “And then more when they brought you back. Are you _really_ the same person? Or just a very good doppelganger?”

Steve’s smile grew at the question.

“Same person.”

“Then I owe you a drink, some time,” she told him, reaching for the flowers in Tony’s hand and dropping Boomer’s leash. “You and some of your men pulled my parents from a tricky situation back in eastern Europe in the forties.”

“It was our pleasure.”

She nodded, and moved away from him, setting the flowers on the table by Peter’s bed and then moving to stand by the head of it. With the boy on his stomach, it was a lot more awkward to greet him, but she was up to the task, and even though he wasn’t awake, she ran her fingers along his cheek, and brushed a kiss against his temple.

The touch woke him from his restless sleep, and even though he didn’t move, he did open his eyes. He had a bit of trouble focusing, but then he actually managed a smile when he realized who was standing in front of him.

“Hi, Monica…”

“Hi, Peter. I heard you were hurt.”

“Only a _little_ ,” he assured her, moving his hand, to try and find hers. “I’m okay.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she told him, not believing him for a moment as she took his hand and squeezed it, lightly. “Did Boomer give you any trouble?”

“No. He’s awesome. How was your trip?”

“It was fun. I brought you a present, but you can’t have it until you’re back home, okay?”

“Okay.” He smiled. “You brought me flowers, too?”

“I own a flower shop,” she reminded him. “I wasn’t going to bring you a parrot.”

That produced a weak chuckle, that ended in a wince and a pained look, and she kissed his temple, again, with yet another caress.

“I’m going to let you get some rest. I just came to see that you’re alright, and to collect my dog.”

“Thank you for the flowers.”

“You’re welcome. Get better, sweetheart, and I’ll show you my slides from my trip.”

“Tony, too?”

“Of _course_ , Tony, too,” she assured him. “Close your eyes and sleep.”

He did what he was told, and despite the pain – or because of the drugs used to combat it – he was asleep again in only moments.

Monica waited until he was asleep, brushing her fingertips along his cheek, and then she righted herself a little more and looked at Tony and Steve.

“He’s going to recover?”

“Completely,” Tony replied.

“And the people who did this?”

“Won’t ever do it, again,” Steve said.

He might not approve of Romanoff’s tactics, but he had to admit that he was glad to be able to say it, just then.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Steve,” Monica said, holding her hand out to him.

“And you, as well. I’ll take you up on that offer of a drink, sometime.”

“You do that,” the old woman told him. “Tony? Walk me out.”

She headed for the door, and Tony rolled his eyes at being so empirically commanded – which made Steve grin, too. Especially when the billionaire did as he was told.

“I’ll be back in a while,” he told Steve.

“After you feed Bob and get yourself something to eat.”

“Yes, grandpa.”

He offered Monica his arm, now that they were free, and she took up Boomer’s leash and accepted it.

“Tell me more about what happened,” she said as they headed for the exit, and her car.


	182. 182

Tony was in the chair beside the bed when Peter woke, next.

A low, pained moan drew his attention from the tablet he had in his hand, and he immediately set it aside and reached for Peter’s hand, scooting the chair even closer so he could be on eye level with his baby.

Those brown eyes that he loved so much opened, slowly, and saw him before seeing anything else – which was exactly how the older man wanted it to be.

“Hi, baby…” he whispered, softly. He was also careful to speak slowly, since he knew Peter was groggy enough right then to need time to process what was being said to him. “How do you feel?”

“I’m cold,” Peter told him, sleepily.

Tony smiled, brushing his fingertips against the boy’s cheek.

“I’ll get you another blanket.”

He didn’t have to go far; there was a large stack of them on a small table at the bottom of the bed. Peter was always cold when he woke, so whoever was with him would take a blanket and cover him with it. Then, when he went back to sleep, they could decide if he needed it, or if the cold was just a byproduct of the injuries and the pain. If they did, they simply folded it up to be put back on the sack until he woke again – or they kept it on him until he woke, again.

Tony draped the blanket over the others that were already on Peter, and he sat down on the edge of the bed, taking his hand once more. Peter was on his back, again, and they didn’t want him moving at all when he was – in order to keep him from aggravating the more sensitive areas on his back and shoulders.

“Better, honey?”

“Yes.” He seemed to be just a little more alert than he had been the last few times that he had woke, and he turned his head and looked around, spying the flowers. “Is Monica still here?”

He smiled, bringing Peter’s hand up and brushing a kiss against his palm.

“No. She was here _Monday_. It’s Wednesday, now.”

Peter tensed, suddenly, and winced at the shock of pain that went through his back and shoulders, regardless of the fact that he was resting on the softest sheets they could find, and had down-filled comforters under him as well as on the bottom layer of all the blankets he was covered with.

“I have school…”

“It’ll wait.”

“And I have to work with Bruce…”

“That will all wait until you’re feeling better,” Tony assured him. “Don’t worry, okay?” he crooned. “We’ll make sure you catch up. It’s all fine. I promise.”

Peter watched him, eyes still dull with the cocktail of medications, but far more alert than he had been in the many days that Tony and the others had been standing vigil at his bedside.

“Did you go to your party?” he finally asked.

Tony nodded, not reminding Peter that he’d been the one to see him off from the apartment that night. He’d remember it, later, when he was feeling better. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked something that he already should have known the answer to, after all. Previously, he’d asked Natasha if she knew Steve was Captain America, had asked Nick if he’d met Tony, and had asked if Bob was up for adoption and if he was, would Tony consider letting him have a dog.

“I did,” he assured him. “I dressed up in my tuxedo, and Pepper and I went on Friday.”

“Was it exciting?”

“It was incredible,” Tony told him, knowing that that was what Peter would want to hear. “A lot of fancy food and people dressed up.”

“Dancing?”

“M-hmm… and a lot of it,” he said, fingers caressing Peter’s hand, idly. “We had the slow music – the kind you and I danced to, remember…?” he watched as Peter’s eyes closed. “We can do it, again, too, honey. I’ll have FRIDAY play us some music when we get you home, safe, and we’ll dance all night… I’ll hold you in my arms and keep you there…”

The hand he was holding went limp as Peter drifted off once more – which had been Tony’s intention all along, of course. Peter was still hurting enough that Robert was keeping him on the painkillers. Not the _sedatives_ ; he was allowed to sleep when he wanted to, but the doctor wanted him waking every now and then and interacting with the people who were watching over him.

So far they’d avoided any panic attacks and he’d only had one nightmare – which Tony had been present for and had soothed him down from it with a touch and soft words. Which meant the constant company and the fact that everyone watching him was willing to actually talk to him and make sure he knew they were there with him was doing the trick in keeping Peter feeling secure.

And they were over the roughest part. The cuts were healing well, and the bruising was already beginning to turn into ugly yellow blotches in some areas. Now it was just waiting out the last of the real painful spots, and Robert was already beginning to wean Peter off the more potent of the medications.

The billionaire kissed the hand, again, and rested it on Peter’s stomach. Then he moved back to the chair and reclaimed his tablet, even though his attention was still almost completely on the sleeping form of his baby – waiting for the next time he woke and needed to know how the party was.

><><><><>>< 

“So…” Everyone at the table turned to Sam. “What do we do to keep this from happening, again?”

“Depends on Peter, really,” Romanoff answered with a shrug.

“And Tony?” Sam added.

“Only to a point,” Fury said. “Peter’s emancipated. As long as he has a place, he can make his own decisions.”

“He has a place,” Natasha said. “With _Tony_ , for now. With _us_ , if it ever became needed.”

“Meaning if something happens to Tony,” Bruce said. “You guys would keep him here?”

“Exactly,” Steve said, nodding. “Peter’s special. He definitely belongs with us.”

“Bob, too,” Clint added.

Natasha smiled.

“Right.”

“He’s my lab assistant, though. You guys couldn’t keep him out here, all the time.”

“I meant; what do we do to keep him from being grabbed, again? His abilities didn’t help against a trank dart.”

“We do a better job of protecting him,” Natasha said, feeling the sting of guilt at not having caught any kind of intel that something was going to happen before it had happened. “Right now, the media is sure that it was an attempted kidnapping, and they’re taking that and running with it.” She scowled. “If they hadn’t thrown out the implications that Peter’s Tony’s son, we wouldn’t need to worry about any of this.”

“You can’t kill them _all_ ,” Clint told her, smirking.

She gave him a look that made him chuckle.

“Tony told me one of the news people told him at the party that she knows Peter’s Spider-man,” Steve said, seriously. “If one has it figured out, then more of them might. We-“

“Which one?” Natasha asked.

“Oh, I’m so _not_ going to tell you that,” Steve told her. “If she knows, though, others might as well, so that could very well be the next round of rumors and news stories that come out.”

“It might be easier just to have Peter out,” Fury put in, nodding. “If only to keep that from being something we need to worry about. He’d lose his anonymity, but then people would figure out that was why Tony’s hanging out with him – and we might lose the dad thing, completely.”

“Plus people might think twice about trying to grab him if they know that he’s not an easy target,” Sam added.

“The news reported that half of the people who tried to kidnap Peter this time were killed,” Bruce said. “They already will know he isn’t an easy target.

“We’ll wait and see what Tony thinks,” Steve said.

“And Peter,” Romanoff added. “He definitely should have a say in things.”

“Agreed.”

Clint looked at his watch, and got to his feet.

“I’m out of here.”

“Where are you going?” Sam asked.

“I’m taking Bob to have his _Mr. Tracker_ put in.”

Yet another way to keep Peter safe.

They all knew if Tony had his way, it would be _Peter_ getting the _Mr. Tracker_ injected under his skin.

“I’ll come with you,” Sam said. “I haven’t had a chance to check on Peter in a while.”

“Nat?”

She shook her head.

“I have a few things to take care of here.”

And then it was her turn to sit with him – so she didn’t want to hope that they would be back when it was time to spell Tony.


	183. 183

“Agent Romanoff, reporting for Peter – sitting…”

Tony smirked at the announcement, looking up from his tablet and setting it aside.

“You understand just how that sounds when you say it, right?”

She smiled, and sat on the edge of the boy’s bed, careful not to jostle him. She knew he was asleep, because she’d checked before speaking. Even in jest she wouldn’t hurt him by calling herself his baby-sitter. But she also knew that it would amuse Tony – and it had. He’d had little enough to smile about, lately, so she was willing to use crude humor to make him.

“Why do you think I said it?” she countered. “What are you reading?”

“Some suit specs. It’s nothing new, just something FRIDAY is double-checking for me while I have some down time.”

She nodded, and turned her attention to the boy in the bed. The bruise on his cheek was mostly faded, and he just looked pale and thin.

“Did he wake?”

“Yeah. For a few minutes. Asked me about the dance. And went back to sleep.”

“Robert isn’t worried?”

“Says he isn’t.” The doctor was the way the Avengers were judging just how concerned they should be about Peter’s condition. Whoever was watching Peter when Robert and his gang of orderlies, nurses and other doctors would come in to check Peter, or change bandages, would watch the man’s expression carefully, and note if there was any change in the way his jaw tightened when the bandages came off (or, more recently, since the bandages were gone, now, they watched as he ran careful fingers along the edges of the remaining cuts). “He says he’s over the worst of it, and he’s cut back the painkillers to next to nothing, now.”

“Why is he sleeping so much, then?”

“ _I_ think it’s because he’s a teenager,” Tony said, looking at the boy, fondly.

“And Robert…?”

“Says that he assumes Peter’s body is using all its energy to heal itself – and he’s healing a _lot_ faster than someone who isn’t enhanced would. He’s just sleeping because it’s a good way to replenish itself.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she let it drop. There were other conversations that she wanted to have, just then.

“Steve told me that you said one of the people at your party figured out Peter’s secret identity.”

“Yeah. She did. And then she pretty much threatened to out him – unless she was the one to get the story and an exclusive interview.” He didn’t miss the way Romanoff’s eyes narrowed at that, and he smiled, pleased that Peter had such an inimitable protector in Natasha Romanoff. “Relax, momma spider,” he said, holding his hand up. “She’s not going to do anything or say anything.”

“It’s a reporter?”

“It _is_. And I already dropped your name to remind her that what she was thinking of doing was not the best of plans. She was properly nervous-looking by the time our conversation was over.”

“I wouldn’t mind talking to her in person…”

“I know you wouldn’t. But it isn’t necessary, this time. Peter’s secret might come out, but _she_ won’t be doing it. At least, not without being given the word that it’s alright to do so.”

Romanoff nodded, and allowed herself to relax.

“We were discussing whether it might be the way to go – to let everyone know who he is. It’s not like we’d have to pull him out of school to keep him safe, or anything.”

“True.” Tony had been giving it a lot of thought, too, recently. He’d had plenty of time to think about Peter’s future as he’d sat by his bedside. “But he wants to go to college. Would he be able to have any kind of regular experiences there if the people around him knew what he could do?”

“He isn’t even close to a regular guy,” she countered. “But in his case anonymity might not be as safe as letting everyone know what he can do. Just think about it, okay? It’s a conversation someone should definitely have with him sometime soon.”

“Once he’s feeling better.”

“Yes.” She waved him away, their own conversation finished, really. She hadn’t exactly found out what she’d wanted to know, but she’d heard what she needed to hear and had taken the opportunity to talk to him about Peter. “You should get some sleep.”

He knew by now not to argue, and he stood up.

“You’ll call-“

_“If anything happens_ ,” she finished. “Absolutely. Go on. We’ll be fine.”

He had no doubt about that, and left the room with tablet in hand, and headed for his quarters. He was a little tired, and she’d given him some things to think about as he lay in his empty bed and tried to convince his mind that the pillow he was going to curl up with was a fair substitution for Peter’s warm and loving arms.

Natasha watched him go and then turned her full attention to Peter, who didn’t seem to have any idea what was going on around him. He was still out. The super spy leaned over, careful to keep her weight off of his body, and pressed a very gentle kiss against his cheek.

“You’d better wake up, soon, kiddo,” she whispered. “He misses you.”

Either the words, or the kiss – or maybe her hair tickling his skin where it cascaded over the two of them – roused him, just a little, and he shifted, slightly, in the bed, mumbling something in response to whatever he was seeing in his dreams.

She waited, watching him, intently, to see if he was going to wake, but he didn’t. Romanoff smiled, and reached for another blanket, covered him with it and tucked it around him with a tenderness that would have had the others smiling, stupidly, if they’d been allowed to see it.

“ _I_ miss you, too,” she added, softly, before she moved from the bed over to the chair that Tony had vacated.

>><><><><>< 

“So, what do you have for me?”

“Nothing.”

“ _Nothing_? You said you were working on something big. Something huge.”

“I _was_. But it turned up garbage.”

“This isn’t like you, Barb… telling me you’re so close to a breaking story that will knock my socks off and then coming up with diddly.”

“What can I say? Not every story pans out the way that we want it to.”

A soft snort – either agreement, or annoyance. Or maybe a combination of the two.

“What else are you working on? You know Tony Stark, right? What new development do we have on him and the kid? Any way to tie them together? Is he Stark’s kid?”

“No. Seems the Daily Star was a lot closer to the truth than the rest of us; his parents were some kind of secret agents, or something. I’m still working on that connection. The files are incomplete, though, and obviously, getting a secret from SHIELD is like pulling teeth.”

“Well, keep working at it. I’d like to get a jump on the others and have them coming to me for sound bites, for a change.”

“I will.”

She left her boss’ office and scowled, biting her lip so hard that her lip gloss was definitely going to need refreshed before going on the air.

The parent thing was probably something safe to pursue, though. That was a matter of public record, and no one could fault her for doing a little digging in that direction. But she wasn’t going to touch the Spider-man connection, again.

Even a reporter could be taught.


	184. 184

It was Nick who was with Peter when he finally woke, completely.

The former director of SHIELD was sitting in the chair by the bed, when he heard a hoarse whisper and the faintest of sounds of the rustling of bedding.

“What are you reading?”

He turned from his book and looked at Peter, who had shifted onto his side and was watching him, eyes alert – although they looked very tired. Nick loved Peter’s eyes. They always said that the eyes were the window to the soul, and Fury believed it. Peter Parker’s eyes were intelligent and wise, despite the boy’s youth. Probably from having so much thrown at him in his young life.

“ _The Crucible_ ,” he replied, holding up the book. “Ever read it?”

“That’s about the witch hunts?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah. They made us read it in seventh grade.”

“What did you think?”

“People do scary things to other people…”

Fury nodded.

“You just summed up the entire world, my man,” Nick told him, setting the book aside with a sigh. “How do you feel?”

“Cold.”

“Yeah?” Nick got out of the chair and reached for one of the blankets, unfolding it and then covering the previous blanket. “Better?”

“Thanks, Nick.”

“Now how do you feel?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“A little stiff.”

“Do you hurt?”

“A little – not much.” He looked around without lifting his head. “You guys got us back? Is Ned alright? And Bob and Boomer?”

“Everyone’s fine. _You’re_ the only one that had to spend any time in bed.”

“They… he knows who I am.”

Fury nodded, but didn't answer him. Instead, he tapped his ear, still watching Peter.

“Tony? He’s awake and alert.”

“Tony’s here?” Peter asked.

“He will be in a minute,” Nick confirmed. “As to the men who grabbed you and your friend… well, we don’t need to worry about them – and neither do _you_. Understand?”

“No.”

Which made Nick smile.

“You trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then just take my word for it, for now, alright? You have other things to worry about, right now, that are more important.”

“What?”

“Well, you’ve been down for a week. And you’ve managed to lose a lot of the weight that Tony put on you. So he’s going to try and bulk you up, again.”

Peter smiled. He was well aware that he’d never been bulky in his life, despite Tony’s best efforts. He hesitated, though, his expression turning serious.

“Is he okay?”

Nick nodded.

“He’s fine, Peter. Just worried about you. Like the rest of us have been.” He looked over when the door opened, not at all surprised by how quickly Tony made his appearance. “Here he _is_ , as a matter of fact. It’s going to get too noisy in here for me, so I’m going to go find someplace quieter to finish my book, alright?”

“Thanks, Nick.”

“You’re welcome, my man. I’ll check back later, make sure you’re eating.”

Fury got up and collected his book as Tony crossed the room.

“He’s talking?” The billionaire asked, softly as they crossed paths; one leaving, one coming in.

“He is,” Nick confirmed. “I’ll let Robert know, but you should have a few minutes before he comes to check him.”

“Thanks.”

The older man put a hand on Tony’s shoulder and then left them, and Stark turned his full attention on the boy in the hospital bed.

“Hi, Tony…” Peter said, uncertainly.

There was no hesitation when the older man sat in the customary spot on the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on Peter’s, as if drinking in the sight of him finally awake and aware of everything going on around him.

“Hi, honey,” he whispered, feeling the sting of tears. “How do you feel?”

“I _was_ cold,” came the reply, and Tony could hear the exhaustion in his baby’s voice. True, he’d been sleeping more than not the last week, but being hurt took a lot of energy, and it had definitely taken its toll on Peter. “But Nick gave me a blanket.”

“Yeah?” he brushed his fingertips along the boy’s cheek. “How do you feel, _now_ , then?”

“A little tired.”

“Do you hurt?”

“Only a little.” His eyes welled with tears, then, surprising Tony. “You found me?”

“We found _Boomer_ ,” he corrected, leaning over and pressing his lips against Peter’s cheek, tasting the salty wetness of his tears and aware that his own eyes were watering, adding to that moisture. “I was so worried, honey.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter brought his hand up to the back of Tony’s neck, holding him in place, keeping him right where he needed him to be, just then. “I don’t… they… I’m not sure how, but… I mean…”

“Shh…” Tony turned his head just enough to be able to speak, but he didn’t move away. “Hey… relax, honey. Everything is fine. You’re fine. I promise.”

“He hit me…” the thin, frail body shuddered, and Tony was quick to soothe with voice and touch.

“He’ll never do it, again, honey. I promise you.”

Peter fell silent, but the grip on Tony’s neck told the older man that he hadn’t fallen asleep. He was just doing the same thing that Tony was; soaking up the sensation of being with the other. Maybe stealing a little courage, at the same time.

A soft knock on the door made Tony pull gently away, smiling down at Peter, reassuringly, before turning to see Robert walking across the room.

“Awake at last, Nick tells me,” he said to Peter, gesturing for Tony to move off the bed and give him access to his patient. “How do you feel, Peter?”

“Tired.”

“Yes. Not surprising, really.” He reached for a box of tissues that had been on the rolling table by Peter’s bed, and pulled a couple before handing the box to Tony. While he was wiping Peter’s face, he took a long look at his eyes, deciding that he definitely looked more alert than he had at any point in the last week. “You were asleep for quite a while. That’s enough to make anyone tired…”

Peter frowned.

“How does _that_ work?”

The doctor smiled.

“It just does. Believe me. Do you hurt?”

“A little. My back is a little sore, I think. Mostly, I feel numb.”

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

The doctor took Peter’s wrist and held it, looking down at his watch and was silent for a moment. So were Tony and Peter, aware that he was checking his pulse – even though one of the machines that the boy was hooked up to was monitoring that. Then he pulled a stethoscope from a hook above the bed and pulled the blankets down – and the t-shirt they’d dressed him in up – and pressed the cool metal against the boy’s chest, winking when Peter tensed at the cold.

“Heart sounds good. Take a breath. Another. And one more.”

Peter did as he was told, his eyes finding Tony’s while the doctor examined him, carefully, checking a few other reflexes and them the wires on the IV. Stark smiled; his arms wrapped around himself, not even realizing it.

“Well, Robert?” Tony asked, when the doctor pulled the stethoscope and covered Peter up, once more. “How is he?”

“Looks like he’s through the worst of it,” Robert replied. “We’ll keep him in bed another day before risking allowing him to try moving around – just because I want to be careful with him – and we’ll start him on some soup in the next hour or so and see how that stays down before trying anything more substantial.”

“But then I can take him home?”

“In a few days. I want him eating solid food and I want to see him walking around, first. Then we’ll see about letting him out of my care.” He looked at Peter. “I’m going to have some soup brought in. I want you to eat it, alright? Then I want you to get some rest.”

“Okay.”

The doctor stood up, and turned to Tony.

“Keep him as still as you can. Don’t pester him, too much, and make him eat what I send in. Got it?”

“I’m not going to pester him.”

Peter smiled at that, his head still on the pillow, his head too heavy to move. Robert winked at the boy, always willing to tease Tony for Peter’s amusement.

“I’ll be back to check on him, later, but call if you need anything.”

“I will.”

The doctor left without another word and closed the door firmly behind him. Tony immediately went back to the seat on the edge of the bed.

“See? You’re fine.”

Peter freed a hand from his blankets and held it up, silently asking for Tony to hold it, which he did, immediately.

“I’m okay…”

“I wasn’t worried,” Tony lied, smiling down at him, and then leaning over and brushing a very careful kiss against his lips. “You’re tough.”

Peter smiled, too, and sighed, closing his eyes and tucking Tony’s hand against his stomach, cuddling him against him as much as he could.

“I don’t feel so tough, right now,” he admitted, sleepily.

“I know, baby. But you will. You’re so strong…” he murmured. “So brave.”

The boy’s smiled widened, and a faint blush graced his pale cheek, but he didn’t open his eyes, again.

“You’ll stay?”

“Yes. Go to sleep.”

“’kay…” he did as he was told, but he didn’t let go of Tony’s hand, even after he fell asleep, again.

Tony leaned over, kissed that cheek, once more, and then simply watched his baby sleep.


	185. 185

“Why do you look so worried?” Steve asked, watching as Tony sat down at the table.

“Because we have a problem,” came the answer. “Well, _we_ don’t, but _Peter_ does – and that pretty much means _we_ …”

It was his acknowledgement that the Avengers had claimed Peter as one of their own. Not an Avenger in his own right, just yet, but definitely a mascot, if not the little brother that none of them had.

Natasha frowned, then, instantly alert – and proving Tony’s point without even making him pull out evidence.

“What’s the problem?” she asked. “He’s awake and alert, now.”

“Yes. And doesn’t seem willing to get out of his bed.”

“He’s still tired, though, right? Sam asked. “From being so hurt?”

Tony shrugged.

“Robert thinks that he should be on his feet – at least a little. When he suggests it, though, Peter balks.”

“Maybe he still hurts?” Natasha suggested.

“The bruises shouldn’t be hurting him too much, anymore. They’re fading, nicely.”

Terrible with all the colors of yellow added to the remaining purple and ugly, but even the cuts were mostly closed, now.

“What does Robert say?”

Tony shrugged.

“You can’t test for pain, so he doesn’t know if Peter really hurts or not.”

“He thinks he’s _lying_?” Steve asked, frowning.

“He thinks he’s afraid,” Tony corrected. “I think he is, too.”

“The kid crashed into bleachers and destroyed them and popped right back up,” Sam reminded them. “It didn’t even slow him down.”

“This was different, though,” Tony said, softly. “He was _really_ hurt, this time. They did a number on him and he’s not likely to forget it. Or how badly it hurt.”

Peter had had a nightmare the day he’d finally woke, and had flinched when Tony had reached for him to hold him, once he’d waken him – begging him not to touch him. When Tony had apologized, thinking that it was some psychological fear of being touched, Peter had grabbed his hand, holding it close to him, proving that it wasn’t Tony’s touch that he was afraid of. It was being jostled, or jarred, and injuring those bruises, further.

“What do we do, then?” Steve asked. “Psychologist?”

“Maybe.” Tony shrugged. “He’d have to come to Peter, though, because he isn’t getting out of bed, for anything. Not even to pee. He told Robert to keep the catheter in rather than get up.”

“Wow…” Sam shook his head. “That’s a different kind of uncomfortable, but still no fun.”

“He took the catheter out and gave him one of those portable urinal things, instead. Just in case he decided to try to move. That way he isn’t tied to any equipment or tubes.”

They’d already disposed of all the rest, including the IVs. Peter was still eating mostly soup and warm cereal, but he didn’t need assistance with his appetite. It would come along with his healing.

“Who’s with him, now?” Natasha asked.

“Just Bob. He said he wanted to be alone for a while.”

“Poor baby.”

She stood up.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked.

“To spend time with Peter.”

Duh.

They watched her go, and Tony felt a little stirring of hope, but didn’t allow himself to get his hopes up. Peter could be stubborn, he knew.

Maybe even a match for Natasha Romanoff.

><><><><>> 

He was on his side in the bed when she knocked on the door and peeked her head in.

“Are you decent?”

He smiled.

“I’m not wearing much,” he admitted, blushing, but smiling – clearly glad to see her. “But as long as you stay on your side of the blankets, we’re okay.”

Romanoff grinned, and went over to the bed, stopping to rub Bob’s ears, but then taking the seat on Peter’s bedside.

“How do you feel?” she asked, reaching out and brushing her hand against his forehead and running it along his cheek.

“I’m okay. Just tired.”

“Yeah?”

“I think so.”

“Any pain?”

“A little. My back hurts, sometimes – if I move it.”

“Robert thinks you should get up and walk around a little,” she told him, still touching his cheek. “It might make you feel better.”

He shook his head, his eyes troubled.

“I don’t think so. I don’t think I’m ready, yet. Maybe in a couple of days.”

“You know we wouldn’t let you do anything to hurt yourself, right?”

“No. Yeah. I know. I just…” he reached for the hand she had on his cheek. “It really _hurts_ , Natasha,” he told her, his eyes welling with tears and the angle his head was at allowing one to run along his nose. “What if it hurts like it _did_ …?”

She let him press her hand against his stomach, pretty much cuddling her arm and clinging to her.

“Does it hurt as much as it did, before?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, closing his eyes. “I’m afraid to try.”

“Can you roll onto your back?”

He shook his head.

This was not the same kid who stood up to a mechanized out of control robot when he was much, much, younger.

“It’ll hurt.”

Natasha nodded. She freed her hand and then surprised Peter by rolling his bed, just a little, away from the wall and then sliding up onto it, gracefully positioning herself in his bed with him. Bringing up the rail – just to make sure she didn’t fall off, she spooned with him, wrapping her arm around him as well as she could and holding him, playing big spoon to his little one.

“Does that hurt?” she asked him, gently.

“No.”

Of course, he hadn’t moved. But she had jostled him a little and that hadn’t caused any of the bruises to complain.

“Can I stay here, then?”

He nodded, his hand seeking hers, and holding it. Peter was tense for a little while. Not because he had a beautiful woman cuddling him from behind, but because she could move any minute and make stabbing pains shoot through his body. Then he relaxed when he realized that she wasn’t going to move behind him. She was holding perfectly still.

“Yes.”

Peter closed his eyes, relaxing, and Natasha rested her head on his pillow, as close as she could be to him without actually being under his blankets – or in his skin. He fell asleep, almost immediately, safe and secure in her arms, and she crooned gently, lightly rubbing his shoulder and upper back.

About an hour after he fell asleep, he rolled in her embrace, still asleep, but instinctively wanting to cuddle. Romanoff didn’t hear any pained sounds as he did, and there weren’t any stilted movements, as if he was sore.

Which made her fairly certain that the only pain he was feeling was in his mind. It didn’t mean it wasn’t serious, of course, but they could get him past the mental, as long as he’d already cleared the physical.

She looked up when the door opened and Tony entered the room, and couldn’t help but smile at the look on his handsome face.

“What are you doing?” he asked, softly, walking over and looking down at the two of them.

“Therapy,” she answered, just as softly. “Go find something to do, Tony,” she said, lifting a hand to wave him away “I work better alone.”

Perplexed enough to be malleable, he did what he was told, gesturing for Bob to come with him. The dog probably needed out, and Tony would get that done before he came back. But she was most definitely in his spot – and he’d eventually want it back

Surely she knew that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting in as many updates as I can before my work week starts! they will slow to one a day (ish) starting tomorrow


	186. 186

When Robert walked into the little room to check on his patient, he found Peter still in his bed – only now he was curled up sleeping with most of his body pressed against Natasha Romanoff, who was also asleep. Tony was in the chair reading a book, and Bob was gnawing on a large bone that the billionaire had mooched from the kitchen for him.

“Am I _missing_ something?” he asked, softly.

Romanoff opened an eye – never so asleep that someone could sneak up on her. She didn’t move, however, and when she saw who it was, she closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

Tony shrugged.

“I wasn’t going to argue with her.”

The doctor smiled.

“Good choice.” Peter wasn’t hooked up to any equipment, so Robert gently pressed his fingers against the boy’s neck, since Peter’s _hands_ were both tucked against Natasha’s belly and it would be someone a lot braver than he was to reach between the two sleepers just to check Peter’s pulse at his wrists. “Did you mention that it’s _your_ spot?”

“Not, yet. It’s my final argument if the whole _he loves me more than he loves you_ thing goes south and Peter tells her he loves her more.”

“I doubt you have too much to worry about.”

It was Robert’s first comment about the relationship between the two of them – but he had known for some time, of course.

He shrugged, again. He wasn't worried, at all.

“She’s softer than me. _Probably_. I’ll have to ask Peter, because I haven’t cuddled with her like that.”

Natasha smiled, proving that she was still awake, but didn’t open her eyes, and didn’t reply, and _that_ made Tony smile, too.

“Well, it’s getting late…” Robert said, making some notes in Peter’s chart. “If she’s got him, why don’t you go find your bed and get some actual sleep? I want to make another try to get him on his feet in the morning, and I’d like you there to add some support.”

Tony nodded and set his book aside.

“Yeah.” He got to his feet and pulled a blanket from the stack, spreading it gently over the two on the bed before he waved to get Bob’s attention and gestured for the dog to join him.

 _He_ needed someone to cuddle with, after all, and all the bodies without fur were taken, already.

><><><><> 

Peter woke slowly, coming awake from a dreamless, restful sleep that had been filled with warmth and comfort. He was vaguely aware of the body he was pressed up again, and sighed, contentedly, his mind automatically connecting the warmth and the arms around him with Tony.

He stirred, not awake enough, yet, to remember that he was afraid to move, and he brought his hand up to Tony’s chest, hand feeling for the heartbeat that his ears could already hear.

Soft flesh covered with a t-shirt was the first indication that it wasn’t the same. Tony slept naked. Like Peter. It was more intimate, and the smooth sheets felt good on his bare skin. More, _Tony_ wasn’t soft and didn’t swell at the chest. He squeezed slightly, eyes still closed as he sleepily tried to figure out what was so off with the sensation.

A soft feminine chuckle made his eyes pop open, and he saw Natasha Romanoff watching him, not moving – despite the fact that she was right next to him and he had a hand firmly clasped around her breast.

Aghast at himself, Peter jerked his hand away and sat up, quickly. Only the rail that penned him in kept him from literally falling out of his bed, and he was leaning hard against it.

“I’m sorry!”

What must she think of him? He remembered going to sleep cuddling with her, now, but he was pretty sure him groping her in the middle of it all hadn’t been part of the plan. Romanoff smiled, and shook her head.

“Thought I was _Tony_ , didn’t you?”

He blushed, and felt his heart rate easing a little, panic that she was mad fading with the soft amusement. She couldn’t be too annoyed if she understood it was mistaken identity.

“I think so. I’m… I mean… I… yeah.”

He fell silent, knowing he was doing his unable to form a complex sentence thing – which proved how discombobulated he was.

“It’s been a while since I was woken that way,” she said, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Peter did a quick check toward his lap, praying that he wasn’t sporting an erection to boot, and was relieved to see that he was in the clear. He turned, slightly, looking to see if anyone was sitting by his bed and had seen it. The room was empty.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

She hugged him before he could move, and it was a reassuring hug that Peter found himself melting into. One of Natasha Romanoff’s special embraces that she reserved only for a very few people – and Peter understood with a soft wave of pure happiness that he was one of them. He understood that those hugs weren’t always for the benefit of the person she was hugging.

Even assassins needed someone to hold once and a while.

She snorted somewhere near his ear, still amused.

“Now I have blackmail material,” she pointed out. “I can go to HR and say you sexually harassed me.”

Peter had only held one job ever in his life, but Pepper had run him through a conversation with the HR people. With him being so young and in such a competitive place, they had wanted to make sure he understood that people weren’t allowed to bully him, tease him or make any negative comments about his age or anything else that they didn’t like about him. Corporate America was not high school – and HR was there to make sure Peter understood that.

“Do the Avengers _have_ an HR department?” he asked, pulling back and looking at her, curiously.

She shrugged.

“That’s probably Nick’s job.” She made a show of looking him over, stretching as she sat up a little more upright, and looked at her watch. It was the middle of the night – she was surprised that Tony hadn’t snuck back into his chair when she’d been asleep. “How do you feel?”

“Sore.”

The answer was automatic, and he realized, then, that he was sitting up and had moved himself upright without thinking about it – and hadn’t felt the mind-numbing pain that he’d expected. Maybe he _wasn’t_ sore, after all.

She clearly had the same thought, because she frowned.

“You _look_ okay…”

No pinched expression, no hand pressing against any particularly tender spot.

He moved his arm, experimentally. Since it had been around her only a moment before, he already knew it wasn’t going to hurt. There was a very minor ache – like if he had lifted something a little heavier than he should have, or maybe when he picked up that car at the awkward angle, but nothing too bad.

Natasha watched, silently, as he moved the other and then twisted his torso, very gingerly, obviously expecting the worst. And not feeling it.

“I don’t _hurt_ …” he told her, his expressive eyes surprised and relieved.

“No?” she allowed her own expression to become uncertain. Her hand reached out and touched his shoulder, feeling how bony he was getting again. Tony was going to freak. “Does that hurt?” she asked, pushing on him a little.

“Nope.” He smiled, and she watched his eyes well up with tears. “I’m okay…”

Romanoff pulled him into another hug.

“You probably should gain some weight,” she told him, the words disappearing in his neck. “But, yeah, I think you’re pretty okay.”


	187. 187

When Tony walked into the medical room early the next morning, he frowned. Natasha was now curled easily in the chair by the bed and Peter was asleep in it. The top portion of the bed was upright, however, and the boy was propped up even further against a couple of pillows. 

It was the first time Peter had been upright since he’d woken up; he’d been unwilling to allow them to move him into any position that wasn’t prone. 

Tony walked over to settle himself carefully on the edge of Peter’s bed, glancing at the boy – who didn’t wake up – and then at Natasha, who did. 

“How did you do that?” Tony asked, softly. 

She smirked. 

“Therapy.” 

_“Natasha…”_  

The super spy shrugged. 

“I’ve been sworn to secrecy, but let’s just say he found himself in a position that gave him more to worry about than a little lingering pain.” 

“So you’re not going to tell me?” 

“Nope.” She shrugged. “Besides, it’s not a complete success, yet,” she cautioned him. “He still hasn’t been on his feet.” 

“It’s a start, though – and an improvement over where we were, yesterday.” 

“Hopefully.” She got out of the chair, stretching. “You got him?” 

“Yeah.” 

“See if you can get him to come eat lunch with us in the lounge today.” 

“I’ll do that. Thanks.” 

She nodded at the sincere appreciation in his voice and expression, and then left, closing the door behind her. Tony leaned forward, pressing his cheek against Peter’s, aware that he was going to wake him, but figuring if he was tired he could always go back to sleep once Tony had had a chance to reassure himself that being upright wasn’t doing him any harm. 

Sure enough, the boy stirred, bringing a hand up to touch his cheek. 

“Daddy?” 

The older man moved back, just a little, his worried eyes meeting Peter’s tired ones. He smiled, and kissed the tip of his nose, lovingly. 

“Hi, baby.” 

Peter’s smile was sleepy, but it lit up his eyes and the rest of his expression. 

“Hi, daddy…” 

“How do you feel?” 

“I’m okay.” He looked around, without lifting his head from the pillow, but able to see a lot more of the room now that he was upright in his bed. “Natasha left?” 

“She said to tell you she wants you to come have lunch with her and the others, today.” 

“Oh.” 

“Think you’ll be up for that?” 

“Maybe…” he reached for Tony’s hand, feeling a surge of weakness at the motion, but not feeling pain for the first time in a very long time. “Are you going to stay with me?” 

“Of course I am,” Tony assured him, taking the boy’s hand in both of his own. “I couldn’t leave my baby, now could I?” 

The boy shifted himself in the bed, moving right up against the railing that Natasha had put up on the far side, until there was a little bit of a space between him and Tony. 

“Sit with me?” He asked, patting the space, invitingly. 

Tony hesitated, but only for a moment. _Natasha_ could cuddle with Peter on the relatively small bed because she was similar in size to Peter. Tony was a fair bit larger – which he liked. But it would make for a tight fit. 

“I might press against you,” he warned, standing up. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“I’m okay, daddy,” Peter assured him, proving it by moving his upper body a little. “Please?” It was his turn to hesitate. “I miss you…” 

Tony gave a purely mental groan and eased himself next to Peter on the bed, and the boy waited until he was still, turned slightly toward him and draped his arm over Tony’s belly, resting his cheek against his shoulder. 

Unable to put an arm around him in the close quarters, Tony had to settle for just putting his hand over Peter’s, and he let his head drop to the boy’s pillow. 

“Am I hurting you?” 

“No.” 

“You’d tell me if I was?” 

“Yes.” 

No. 

But it happened to be true. Peter felt good. Tired, and weak, but he wasn’t afraid for the first time in what seemed to be years, even though it was really only a matter of days. Fear did crazy things to a person’s perceptions. 

“I’ve missed a lot of school,” he said, sounding worn out. “I must be so far behind.” 

“Not that far,” Tony assured him. “We’ll help you catch up. Go back to sleep for a while, okay?” 

“I’m not tired, right now.” He _was_ , but he didn’t want to fall asleep and wake up with Tony gone. “Will you stay and talk to me?” 

“Of course I will, honey,” Tony told him, understanding. He squeezed Peter’s hand, lightly. “My brave boy. So wonderful…” 

Peter shivered, and closed his eyes, his body relaxing against Tony’s. That wasn’t exactly what he’d meant, but he responded automatically to the love in Tony’s voice. It was a verbal caress to his tired and bruised psyche. 

“What else?” He whispered. 

“Amazing… so incredible and smart. And did I mention _pretty_? Because you’re beautiful.” 

Peter sighed and fell asleep almost immediately, too wiped out to even stay awake to listen to Tony croon tender love to him. The billionaire shifted just enough to get more comfortable, then he relaxed in the little bed and simply enjoyed having his baby so close to him. 

><><><><><>  

“You okay?” 

Peter hesitated, clutching the edge of the bed as he swung his feet over the bed, trembling, but not from fear. He just felt weak. Robert had warned him that he would, though, and assured him that it was just from being in bed for so long – like when he’d been so sick, before. 

It felt similar, so he nodded, his eyes on Tony, who looked worried, despite the encouragement he was giving. 

“Yeah.” 

Tony was hovering close by, his hand stretched out to grab Peter the moment he faltered, but Robert had insisted that the billionaire let Peter get himself on his feet alone, if he could. 

The two men – and _Bob_ , who was lounging on a blanket that had been put on the floor against the far wall for him – all watched as he got out of bed, holding the rail once he was upright. 

The doctor smiled. 

“Very good, son.” 

Peter smiled. 

They’d fed him a soldi breakfast an hour or so after Robert had come to check on him and had found Peter sitting up. Then, when the doctor had suggested Peter try to get himself to the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair, Tony had balked at the idea of Peter getting up and going that far. He backed off when Robert pointed it would only be as far as the bathroom and then had added that Peter would feel better for having had a chance to move around a bit. 

Peter reached for Tony when he took the first step, though, feeling unsteady enough that he decided that asking for support would be better than falling on his face and scaring Tony. 

The billionaire was immediately there, hand under his arm and supporting him as he walked slowly to the bathroom. It was Tony who stood with Peter while he washed his face, and brushed his teeth. Robert was watching him, carefully, but he didn’t see anything that made him concerned, even when Peter pretty much collapsed into the bed when Tony helped him back to it. 

“That’s a good start,” the doctor said, radiating approval. “Get some rest, and we’ll see about letting Tony take you for a walk before lunch.” 

“To the lounge?” Peter asked, turning on his side to look at him while Tony gently covered him with a blanket. 

“We’ll see.” 

Peter looked at Tony, who rolled his eyes. Typical doctor response. But he wasn’t going to argue. 

“To sleep,” he told the boy. “Get your strength back.” 

“You’re going to stay?” 

“I’m going to take Bob out and then feed him,” Tony told him. “But then we’ll both come and keep you company.” 

“Okay…” 

He didn’t leave right away, though. Tony sat on the edge of Peter’s bed, talking to Robert about how they wanted to rehab Peter, while the boy listened to them, but eventually allowed the two men’s boring conversation to lull him to sleep.

 Robert smiled.

 “I’ll stay with him until you get back.”

 “We won’t be long.”

 The doctor sat down in the chair and reached for the book that everyone was reading while they watched Peter. He found his place, and shrugged.

 “Don’t hurry on my account. Now that he’s feeling better, and we’ve got him pointed on the road to recovery, I need to finish this thing before Nick takes it back to his quarters.”

“The butler did it,” Tony said, waving a hand to get Bob’s attention.

 “Nice try,” the doctor told him with a raised eyebrow. “The butler is the murder victim.”

 Tony shrugged and took his dog and left. He wanted to make sure he was back before Peter woke up, again.

 Maybe he'd tell Tony what Natasha said to get him moving around.


	188. 188

“Well, he looks _awful_ …”

“Yeah, he does.”

Natasha leveled her killer gaze at Steve and Clint.

“He’s upright and on his feet. Don’t you dare undo that by telling him how rough he looks.”

It was true, though, she decided as they watched Peter make his way slowly over to the table the others were sitting at, with Tony hovering protectively on one side and Robert pretending not to do the same as he matched paces with the boy on the other.

He was on his feet, though, liked Romanoff had said, and while he looked wan and exhausted, he was also smiling, triumphantly, by the time he reached them.

Clint got up and found Peter a chair as he approached, and he settled into it with a grateful smile, even as the archer ruffled his hair, cheerfully.

“Peter, my man,” Clint said by way of greeting. “Who put you in those _ridiculous_ pants?”

The boy smiled, looking down at the Ironman lounge pants that Tony had handed him when he’d woken and told the billionaire and Robert that he wanted to try to walk to the lounge and eat with the others.

“They didn’t have any _Hawkeye_ ones,” Tony said, smirking, before Peter could answer. "Guess you’re just not amazing enough to have your own line of merchandizing.”

“I think they’re _cute_ ,” Natasha said. “Next thing you know, he’ll be wearing Captain America boxers and walking around in Hulk slippers.”

Peter grinned at her, but shook his head.

“I don’t like slippers.”

His feet at the moment were simply in warm, fluffy, socks – proof of that.

“How do you feel?” Steve asked, as Tony walked to the bar to get them something to drink.

“Tired.”

“Hungry?” Natasha asked.

“Yes.”

Considering he was once more a rack of bones and skin, that wasn’t too surprising. The others didn’t say anything, though, because he had to already know how he looked, and them tsking over it wasn’t going to make him gain the weight back, faster.

“He’ll need a little fattening up,” Robert said, matter-of-factly, as he sat down beside Clint. “But he’s doing great – all things considered.”

Peter nodded his agreement, flashing Tony a smile when he set a bottle of apple juice in front of him before he sat beside him, his hand automatically going to the small of Peter’s back for a moment, before he took a sip of his coffee.

“He’s officially out of the medical room and graduated to his own, now,” Tony told them.

Romanoff frowned, looking at Robert.

“Is that a good idea?”

The doctor shrugged.

“He’s not in any danger, now, and we’ve had him off the painkillers for a few days. We were just waiting for him to realize that he could move without hurting – and his pilgrimage to lunch, just now, proved it, nicely. Right, Peter?”

The boy nodded, blushing as he looked over at Natasha, who smirked.

They both knew what had made him realize that moving wouldn’t hurt – and he wasn’t telling anyone, and hoped that she would save his fledgling male ego by not sharing that information with the others, either.

“I just need some stamina, now,” he assured them.

He was wiped out, just from the short walk. But he knew he’d be fine. Robert had told him so.

“Wait,” Clint frowned. “You _can’t_ be done in there, yet.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t finish the book.”

“Neither did I,” Steve agreed, and his blue eyes were lit up with amusement and good cheer. “Maybe another _week_ in bed? I’ll take more turns watching you sleep, so I can find out who did it.”

“It was the _maid_ ,” a deep voice said, suddenly, from behind them, and a hand came around Peter from behind to press against the boy’s forehead. “Are you certain that he should be in here, hanging out with this crowd, Robert?” Nick asked, using his grip on Peter’s head to give the boy a rough, and incredibly rare, hug from behind, simply holding him back against him for a moment. "I wouldn't want to be accused of allowing them to corrupt him."

“They’re good for him,” the doctor said, amused at the display of affection from someone who was extremely taciturn by nature. “If anyone will keep him from lazing about, it’ll be the other Avengers, right?”

Tony frowned when he caught the phrasing, and more than one eyebrow went up at the words, but Peter didn’t catch it. He looked up at Nick, smiling a greeting.

“Hey, Nick.”

“Hey, Peter, my boy,” Fury said, letting him go and reaching for a chair so he could sit down, too. “How do you feel?”

“Good.”

“Tired?”

“Yeah. A little.”

Fury looked at Robert.

“What’s the game plan with him?”

“We feed him lunch and send him to bed.”

“Wash, rinse, repeat,” Tony added. “Until he’s back to running around, driving us all crazy.”

Fury’s single eye drifted back to Peter.

“You’re alright with that?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of lunch. Peter’s wasn’t quite as substantial as the rest of theirs; his diet was going to be monitored carefully for the next couple of days – just to make sure Tony didn’t try and stuff as much food down him as would fit, trying to fatten him up before his stomach was capable of handling it. It was basically a repeat of those very first days the two of them had been together.

Only this time, Peter was in the compound, and Robert was right there to make sure everything stayed on course.

The boy didn’t mind, though, because the tuna sandwich, potato salad and chocolate cake were as much as he could handle, just then. He worked his way through the meal, listening as the conversation around the table turned to training schedules and routine duty shifts, and found the quiet voices of the others beginning to lull him to sleep before he had taken more than a few bites of his dessert.

Tony watched while Peter fought a good fight to stay awake, and smiled, softly when the eyes that kept blinking closed – only to open, valiantly – finally closed a final time, and the hand that was holding the fork went still. His baby was still upright, but it wouldn’t be for long. He put a supporting hand on his side, and Steve stood up, he and the others also noticing what was happening.

“Put him on the couch, Steve,” Robert suggested. “He can rest here just as well as his bed – for now.”

Rogers did as he was told; easily scooping the slight boy into his arms and carrying him over to the leather sofa that ran along the wall of the room. It was more than comfortable enough for Peter, who was exhausted enough, still, that he probably would have managed a bed of nails, just then. Tony had followed, and draped a throw blanket over Peter when he was settled, but the boy didn’t rouse, and both men returned to the table.

“He’s _really_ alright?” Fury asked.

Robert nodded.

“Just worn out. His constitution is astounding – anyone else might have succumbed to the shock of the beating that he took and not made it through what he did. Add the healing mechanism, clearing the bruises in half the time – and taking care of the welts and broken skin – and he probably won’t even end up with any visible scarring.”

“And the scarring we can’t see?” Natasha asked, quietly, glancing at the boy.

“I’ve already set the wheels in motion for that,” Robert assured them. “A specialist I know is going to make himself available to talk to him – just to make sure we’re covering all the bases when it comes to his recovery.”

“Is he going to know his secret identity?” Clint asked.

“Yeah. If Peter is comfortable telling him.”

Fury shrugged.

“I have a feeling a lot more people than him are going to be learning that, in the near future…”

It was more of a question than a statement, and they all looked at Tony, now. He shrugged; sitting by Peter’s bed watching him deal with the injuries that he’d taken at the hands of someone who was retaliating for things the boy had done as his alter-ego had given the billionaire a lot of time to think about Peter’s future.

“It’s not my choice to make,” he told them – having realized that some time in the middle of the night several days ago. “He’s old enough and mature enough to decide how we address it – or of we do anything at all.”

Natasha’s look was approving.

“Make sure when you bring it up with him that you remind him that we’re here, too.”

“He knows that, Natasha,” Tony told her, seriously, as the others nodded their agreement. His expression lightened, and his eyes lit up. “But I’ll tell him. _If_ you tell me what you did to get him moving around…?”

She smirked.

“Not on your life.”

Damn it.


	189. 189

The others were gone when Peter woke, but Clint was sitting on the couch, near Peter’s feet, reading the book – although he put it aside when Peter sat up, stretching a little and rubbing his eyes.

“I thought Nick told you how it ended,” Peter said, looking over at him – and his book.

“He _lies_ ,” Clint told the boy, with a wink. “I want to see for myself. Or read, in this case. How was the nap?”

“Good. Where is everyone?”

“Working. And before you ask, Tony is out with your monster of a dog and will be back, soon. Luckily, I am the only one who has all my planning and training done for the day, so I get to laze about and read.”

“I don’t _really_ need a baby-sitter, though,” Peter pointed out. “Do I?”

“Not a baby-sitter,” Clint corrected. “Because you’re right. But we do want to make sure someone is close at hand in case you start to have a panic attack, or something. At least for a little while longer, Robert said.”

“Oh.”

“You’re doing really well, though,” the archer told him, slapping his foot. “Even Tony agrees.”

Which made Peter smile as he moved the blanket to the back of the sofa and stood up, carefully, wanting to stretch his legs, a little. He winced, though, and ran a hand along his leg.

“Sore?” Clint asked, not missing the motion.

Of course, he was called Hawkeye for a reason. He didn’t miss much.

“Yeah. A cramp. It’s no big deal. I’m going to go get a drink.”

Clint nodded, reaching for the book.

_“Non-alcoholic_ , though, mister. Don’t even _think_ of trying to talk the bartender out of something stronger than a pop with those big, soulful eyes of yours.”

Peter grinned; although he had enjoyed the way he’d said it, while heading for a bar. He waved to show Clint that he’d heard him – and to reassure him that he wasn’t going to do anything of the sort (even while wondering if he could).

The bartender had heard the conversation, though, and already had a soda poured and waiting for Peter, who leaned, a little, against the bar; a bit weak in the knees by the time he’d reached it.

Tony was there, suddenly, with Bob, and both of them walked over to join Peter at the bar. Bob stuck his face in Peter’s side, looking for attention, which the boy delivered, willingly. He scratched and rubbed the soft ears and cold nose while Tony watched him, intently.

“How do you feel?” he finally asked, when Peter released the mastiff’s head.

“Pretty good. Really.”

“Hungry?”

“No.”

“But you’ll eat something, right? A sandwich?”

Peter nodded, looking at the bartender, who nodded, as well.

“Tuna?”

“Anything.”

The bartender vanished into the kitchen behind the bar, and Tony smiled; pleased that Peter was willing to eat an extra meal for him.

“Any pain?”

“No. I feel pretty good. Just tired and weak.”

And they both knew that would fade.

“Let’s go sit down.”

Tony put a steadying hand under Peter’s elbow, and walked with him over to the same table they’d eaten lunch at, earlier. Peter eased himself into a chair, still amazed that he couldn’t feel any pain from his back or his shoulders. They’d hurt so terribly, before.

Bob settled under the table, but Tony moved to a far wall for just a moment, before returning with a box in his hand – which he gave to Peter.

“What’s this?” the boy asked, even as he realized it was a jigsaw puzzle.

“Happy got it for you,” the older man told him. “So you’d have something to occupy yourself when you were feeling better.”

Peter smiled, touched, examining the picture on the front. He was amused to see that it was an _Avengers_ puzzle. It was Ironman front and center, hand raised toward the front, flanked by Steve dressed in his Captain America suit on Tony’s left and Thor on the right, with the others posed around him in a perfect grouping.

Behind them was a backdrop of the New York skyline, with Stark Tower in the center and the rest of the city unfolding around it.

“Wow.”

“It’s a pretty good picture,” Tony agreed.

“My ears look big,” Clint said, having come over to look over Peter’s shoulder, book still in hand.

“Because they’re _enormous_ ,” Tony told him.

Clint thumped the top of Peter’s head with the book he was holding.

“You’re not going to let him talk to me like that, are you?”

Peter smiled, shrugging.

“He’s _bigger_ than me.”

“That’s a lousy excuse, Peter,” Barton complained. “He isn’t _that_ much bigger, really, and without the suit, you and I could take him, I bet.”

Tony snorted, amused.

“There will be no attempts at _taking_ me,” he told the archer. “Not until I’ve had a cup of coffee and we’ve completed the puzzle. Are you going to _help_? Or are you going to read a book that you already know the conclusion to?”

“I’m going to help, of course,” Clint said, pulling up a chair.

Everyone loved a good puzzle. Especially if they were in it.

><><><><>< 

“Oooo, you got a new puzzle and didn’t _tell_ me?”

Peter hadn’t missed Natasha’s arrival in the lounge – with Bruce walking beside her – but he’d been looking for a side piece and hadn’t looked up until he found it.

“Happy got it for him,” Clint said, not looking up, at all.

_He_ hadn’t missed her arrival, either.

“Can we help?”

“Are you going to tell me what you said to Peter to make him get moving?” Tony asked, looking up at her with an impish expression.

“ _No_.”

Tony noticed Peter’s ears turning red, and smiled; it must have been a doozy, whatever it was.

“Then-“

“ _Peter_? Can I help you with your puzzle?” Natasha interrupted.

“Sure.”

She gave Tony a smirk, smug and amused, combined, and sat down beside the billionaire, leaving the chair beside Peter for Bruce.

Not surprisingly, Banner reached for Peter’s forehead, his expression concerned, but also relieved to see him on his feet.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m good,” Peter assured him. “Just a little weary, still. Are we pretty behind in the lab?”

The doctor rolled his eyes, moving his hand.

“Ugh, don’t even get me started,” he told Peter, with an air of great suffering. “You wouldn’t believe the guy that Pepper loaned me…” he hesitated, waiting until he had Peter’s full attention. “I want to _Barium_.”

Peter laughed, outright, and Tony rolled his eyes at the terrible joke. Even though it was one that he’d heard before. It was probably older than all of them combined.

Natasha looked at them for a moment, and then at Clint, who shrugged.

“They’re _nerds_. Sometimes you just have to face the facts,” the archer told her, reaching for a puzzle piece.

They both understood the joke – it was _basic_ , after all – but Peter was still chortling, and Bruce had to remove his glasses and wipe his eyes. It wasn’t that funny.

They were glad to see Peter smiling, though, and that was worth listening to bad jokes all day.


	190. 190

Peter spent the rest of his first day out of bed surrounded by Avengers.

He worked the puzzle with Tony, eating another sandwich, while the others came and went, popping in during the end of their work day to check on him, or simply take a minute to make sure that he wasn’t suffering for being out of bed for too long.

By the time dinner time came around, the puzzle was complete, and Peter had seen everyone more than once – even though Tony was the only one who had actually stayed the entire time. Steve and Sam joined him and Tony for dinner, telling Peter stories about the training that they were doing with some newer SHIELD recruits, and making sure the boy understood that they were enjoying his company.

Almost as much as Peter was enjoying theirs.

Robert came by as they were finishing dessert, and he sat down with them, but waved away the offer of a piece of cake. He’d eaten, earlier, he said and was just there to check on his patient.

“I’m out of the medical room,” Peter pointed out. “So, I’m not really your patient, anymore, right?”

“What makes you think that?” the doctor asked, amused, taking Peter’s wrist and watching his watch as he checked his pulse. “Now that I have you, you’ll probably be my patient until you’re ninety. We doctors don’t give up the interesting cases, willingly. Not even when they’re healthy.”

Peter smiled at that.

“I suppose I’m a pretty interesting case.”

“You’re an interesting guy,” Robert told him, sincerely – and now he was checking for fever. “Get up and walk across the room for me, will you?”

The boy did as he was told, moving a little stiffly, but managing to go to the bar and back without too much difficulty.

“Well?” Tony asked, as Sam and Steve waited around to hear the prognosis. “How is he doing, Robert?”

“He’s doing great, Tony.” Robert gave the boy an approving look. “Don’t try to do too much, right away, though, alright? Find a place to be and stay there once you do. Like here. Eat as much as you can, sleep as much as you can.” He gave Tony a pointed look. “Nothing too physical for several days. I don’t want to undo all the good the rest he’s been getting is doing.”

Stark nodded his agreement.

“When can I can take him home?”

“Not tomorrow,” Steve said. “We haven’t had him to ourselves for very long.”

The doctor snorted, amused at the happy shine in Peter’s eyes at the way Steve made it clear he liked having Peter close at hand.

“Give it a couple of days. I don’t want him walking Bob for at least another week, though. Nothing strenuous. I _mean_ it.”

Tony nodded, again, looking at Peter.

“Got it?”

The boy nodded, too.

“Okay.”

“Bedtime,” Robert told him.

“What?” Peter glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s only seven o’clock.”

“And you’ve been up for several hours.”

“But I _napped_ , earlier.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

“Do you go to bed on your own?” he asked. “Or do I have Steve carry you, kicking and screaming?”

Peter smiled at the threat, and looked over at Steve, who was also amused.

“You wouldn’t do that…”

“Try me?”

Peter hesitated, but then he shook his head. He wasn’t ready to argue too strenuously. Besides, Steve would probably do it, if Robert told him to, and Peter didn’t like the idea of being tossed over the man’s shoulder like a bag of flour and toted through the corridors of the compound.

“I’ll go to bed.”

“Good choice.” He looked at Tony. “Feed him a midnight snack, if he wakes up, and I’ll check on you guys at breakfast.”

“Sounds good.”

“Well…” Steve drawled. “If I’m not needed here, then I’d better get some things done. I’ll see you guys, tomorrow, too.”

Sam nodded his agreement, and they both got up, leaving Peter alone at the table with Tony and Bob.

“You’re probably pretty behind, too,” the boy guessed, looking at the billionaire. “Staying out here with me for so long?”

Tony didn’t deny it, but he shrugged.

“Pepper knows what’s going on,” he reminded him, getting to his feet. “She’s handling things so I can stay out here, with you. Now that you’re feeling a little more like yourself, I’ll let her know we’ll be back to the apartment next week, sometime, and she can adjust my schedule accordingly.”

Peter got up, as well.

“I’d be alright if you needed to go to work,” he told him. “If I’m just going to be sitting around, or sleeping, you could probably take care of the important things.”

“I _am_ taking care of the important things,” Tony assured him as they walked out of the lounge, with Bob taking a position on Tony’s other side. He smiled at Peter’s pleased blush when the boy figured out what he meant, and shrugged. “I’ll check with Pepper and see if there’s anything that can’t wait.”

“I don’t have to sleep alone, do I?” Peter asked, softly. “You’ll stay with me?”

Now Tony _did_ hesitate.

“You heard what Robert said about nothing too physical?”

“Yes.”

“If I keep you company, we keep it at that… nothing physical, right now. Despite what we both may want. Deal?”

Peter nodded.

“Yes.”

He could live without sex, but he really didn’t want to be alone.

“Good. Then, yes, I will stay with you.”

They reached Peter’s room, and the boy was surprised when he opened the door. There were flower arrangements, gift baskets and snacks all over the main room, including a fair number of balloons telling him to get well.

“Monica,” Tony told him, smiling at Peter’s surprise. “A new arrangement has been coming by special courier every two days since you’ve been here. The benefits of having a friend who owns a flower shop, I suppose. Make sure you call her, tomorrow, so she knows you’re up on your feet.”

Peter smiled, nodding, more than a little bemused at the sight and the heady scent of so many flowers in one small space. He walked into the bedroom and saw a little brown teddy bear on the bed. It, too, had get well written on its belly.

“Monica?” he guessed.

“ _Natasha_ ,” Tony told him. “It’ll give you someone to sleep with, I suppose, If I'm not here."

“I’m a little old for stuffed animals…”

“Tell _her_ that,” the billionaire said, amused. “I doubt that she’ll listen, though.”

No, probably not.

Peter walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, heavily, because the walk had tired him. He reached for the bear, noting that it was soft and squishy enough that it might be comfortable to sleep with, after all.

“Ned’s alright?” he finally asked.

“He is. Call him, tomorrow, too. We’ll have him brought out some time toward the end of the week, and he can keep you company.”

“That would be great. I have a lot of school work, too, I bet.”

“Which you will work on, tomorrow, when you have had a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast. Got it?”

“Yes,”

“Good.” The older man stepped up and pushed Peter’s knees apart so he could stand close to where the boy was sitting on the edge of the bed, and put his arms around him. “I’m going to take Bob out. I want you ready and in bed by the time we get back. Got it?”

Peter nodded, but he pressed his face, lightly, into Tony’s belly, bringing his arms around him, clearly not quite ready to let him go.

“Yes, daddy.”

Tony hugged him, careful to not put too much pressure on the skin of the boy’s back. No sense rubbing that newly healed skin too raw, after all.

“That’s a good boy. _My_ good boy,” he murmured. “I love you, Peter.”

“I love you, too, Tony.”


	191. 191

Peter went to bed wearing the Ironman lounge pants and a soft well-worn long-sleeved shirt of Tony’s. It was baggy on him, but Tony wanted him in something that would not only be gentle to his delicate recently healed skin, but it would make Peter feel safe, even asleep. Wrapped up (literally) in one of his old shirts, Peter looked like a kid playing dress up with daddy’s clothes, but was smiling, and that was all that mattered to Tony.

“You’re okay?” he asked, pulling the blankets on Peter’s bed back for him so the boy could climb under them.

“Yes.”

He _was_ , too. Tired, but relieved to be away from the hospital bed that he’d been stuck in, and eager to have Tony hold him all night. It was great having the others spend time with him – Peter appreciated it more than any of them would ever know (except maybe _Natasha_ , who he knew just seemed to know everything) but Tony was special to Peter, and he just felt safe when he was with him. The nightmares weren’t quite as scary, and the panic attacks were less frequent – by far.

Tony followed him into his bed, dressed similarly, and Peter found himself gathered up against his chest when the older man turned a little so he could look at him.

“You’re so brave, honey,” he told him, the admiration and love he saw in Tony’s expression making him blush with pleasure. “I’m so proud of you.”

Peter smiled. He didn’t _feel_ brave, really – he was anxious to be held, and that probably wasn’t a big indicator of courage, after all. But he loved it when Tony said stuff like that. Even when he knew he wasn’t doing it to get Peter excited. Like now.

“Thank you.”

Tony brushed Peter’s bangs from his face with a loving hand, following the motion with a tender kiss to his forehead.

“You’re welcome. Go to sleep, okay? You have a big day ahead of you, tomorrow…”

“What am I going to be doing?” he asked, curiously, hoping it wasn’t too busy.

He didn’t feel up to much more than sitting somewhere and watching the world go by.

“Working on puzzles and eating everything we can stuff into you.”

Peter smiled at that.

“Do we have more puzzles?”

“Of course we do. A _million_ of them. You’ll see tomorrow. Go to sleep, honey.”

The boy closed his eyes and did as he was told; tucking his face into Tony’s chest, his arms wrapped around himself, and Tony’s arms coming around him.

When he was asleep, the billionaire moved just enough to raise his hand, speaking into his watch, since FRIDAY wasn’t, technically, integrated into the guest quarters – even Peter’s room.

“FRIDAY? Order up some jigsaw puzzles, will you? The more complicated, the better. Movie themes, anything superhero related – no landscapes or anything boring, like that. Delivered here to the compound by morning.” He spoke softly, to avoid disturbing Peter, but he didn’t _need_ to. The boy was definitely asleep and not waking any time soon. Tony smiled, as another thought hit him. “And I have a few more things I want you to order…”

><><><><>< 

Bob woke them the next morning.

The big mastiff wasn’t at all concerned by the fact that Tony was warm and comfortable, with Peter tucked up against him. He didn’t care that the night’s sleep had been interrupted sometime around one am when Peter had a bad dream and was restless enough to wake Tony, who took advantage of the fact that the boy woke and brought him a midnight snack in the form of two sandwiches and a glass of milk taken out of the kitchen in the lounge.

He wanted to go out.

Tony groaned when the heavy body of the dog landed on the bed beside him and he tucked Peter a little closer, to protect him from being stepped on.

“Tell me again why we didn’t find a chihuahua…?” he muttered, more to himself – although Peter’s chuckle told him the boy was awake, too. “A _little_ chihuahua…” he added.

“Aren't _all_ chihuahuas little?” Peter asked, burrowing his face into Tony’s armpit when Bob started rooting between the two of them, eager for attention and in a playful mood. Instead, he felt a wet muzzle stick itself into his ear, and shivered when Bob’s tongue started tasting his neck.

Clearly the _mastiff_ was pleased to have his baby back where he could interact with him, better, as well.

“We could always trade him in,” Tony offered, bringing a hand up to stave off the licking attack. It didn’t work, of course. Bob was an aggressive licker, and cuddler, and when he was in a mood like this, he wasn’t easy to ignore. “It’s probably not too late.”

Peter laughed, and finally was forced to roll away from Tony – and Bob – or drown. He was so relieved that he didn’t hurt, he didn’t even mind that he rolled himself almost entirely off the other side of the bed, with only the bedding and Tony’s quick grab to his wrist catching him.

“It’s way too late,” Peter disagreed. “ _We’re_ his family, now. He’d miss us.”

Bob flopped down in the space Peter vacated and rolled himself onto his back, belly up and clearly wanting to have it rubbed. Both of them complied, and Peter smiled over at Tony.

“Morning, daddy…”

“Good morning, baby. How do you feel?”

“Drooled on.”

“And not in the _good_ way, either, huh?”

“Right.” Peter’s eyes were amused, though. “How do _you_ feel?”

It wasn’t always about _him_ , after all.

“I’m fine, honey. Like Bob, here, I’m just happy to have you back with me, where I can get some attention and a few belly rubs.”

The boy’s eyes were amused, and he leaned over Bob and slid his hand under Tony’s shirt, finding the faint trail of coarse hair that ran along the older man’s belly, from his chest to his groin. Slender, nimble, fingers ran along it, rubbing and lightly scratching.

“Like that?”

Tony smiled.

“Exactly.”

Peter’s hand started to move lower, but Tony caught it before it slid under the waistband of his pajamas.

“No, honey. Bob needs out, Robert said nothing too physical, and I can’t walk the dog if I have a hard-on.”

Peter pouted, but it wasn’t serious, because his eyes were still happy.

“Can I come walk Bob with you?”

Since they were at the compound, walking him really just meant walking with him to the exit and letting him wander around the field, sniffing everything that he’d missed since the last time that he’d been there, and picking up the inevitable pile of steaming poop to avoid some SHIELD agent coming back to them with a scowl and a shit-slick shoe in hand.

“Do you feel up to it?”

“Maybe.”

“Get some shoes on.”

They both rolled out of bed, then, and Bob hopped off, with ease, heading for the door.

He’d done his job, waking them up and getting them out of bed. Now it was their turn to take care of him.

><><><>>< 

“Are you _supposed_ to be out here?”

Peter smiled at Sam and Steve, who had come running up to him when they noticed the boy sitting in a simple plastic chair that Tony had found for him, rather than having him stand while they waited for bob to finish his business. Both men were clearly out for a morning run, to judge by their sweats and t-shirts.

“I’m walking Bob,” he told them.

Steve looked over to where Tony was crouched down, picking up poop, while Bob was shoving his face in the billionaire’s chest, tail wagging, furiously, clearly intent on playing, but knocking Tony off balance and getting an earful of insults each time he did. Cheerful enough, to judge by the tone of voice Tony was using – even from a distance, but the dog’s pedigree was now definitely in question.

“You _look_ alright,” Sam said, reaching for the boy’s forehead – which made Peter roll his eyes, amused.

Everyone wanted to touch his forehead.

“I feel okay.”

“Are you warm enough?” Steve asked, frowning.

It was a bit chilly, and even though he was in long sleeves, they all knew how easily Peter took a chill.

“I’m good. We haven’t been out here, too long. Bob’s in a playful mood, this morning.”

They all watched as 200 pounds of dog finally prevailed against one hundred and seventy pounds of Ironman, and Tony was finally bowled under by the mastiff, cursing as the dog stood over him, holding him down and licking him, only the wagging tail assuring them all that Tony wasn’t in danger of being chewed up and eaten.

“We should go rescue him…” Steve said, smiling.

“ _Or_ …” Sam countered, pulling out his phone and starting to record the action. “We could keep Peter company and make sure he isn’t _next_.”

“Tony _would_ want us to protect Peter, wouldn’t he?” Steve replied, a hand going to the boy’s shoulder when he started to stand up to go over and help Tony, who had rolled onto his stomach, now, and was trying to protect his face from the mastiff’s tongue. Despite Peter being stronger than him, the hand pushed him easily back into the chair. “You’re right, Sam.”

Peter smiled, shaking his head, and watching Tony deal with their rambunctious dog, while Captain America and Falcon kept him company – and recorded some great YouTube material – if Tony didn’t have FRIDAY find it and delete it, first.

“Of course, I’m right. We have to protect Peter at all costs, right? He’s one of us.”


	192. 192

“You were supposed to come save me…”

Peter smiled.

“I tried.”

“But…?”

“Steve held me down.”

Tony scowled at Rogers, who shrugged, innocently.

“I didn’t want him to do anything strenuous, Tony. I’d think pulling a huge dog off of you would count. Wouldn’t you, Sam?”

“Definitely. Have to look out for our little man, don’t we? You’re _Ironman_ ; you can take on a little dog…”

Tony clearly wasn’t as amused as the others, but was pleased that Peter was smiling – even if it was at his own expense.

“Next time, save me,” he told the boy, winking to remind him that he wasn’t serious. “I might have been dog chow.”

“You probably don’t taste that good,” Sam assured him.

“For your information, I probably taste just fine.”

Peter chuckled; it was always amazing to him that the Avengers were so normal. Messing with each other and teasing. He knew he was lucky to have such a rare opportunity to see them like that.

“We’re going to finish our run,” Steve said, also winking at Peter. “If we don’t see you for breakfast, we’ll look for you at lunch.”

The two men trotted off, and Tony looked down at himself, mournfully His sweats were grass-stained and his shirt was drooled on.

“I’m going to go change. Come keep me company?”

Peter nodded and got up, his hand brushing Bob’s side as he did.

“What are you going to do, today?” he asked Tony as they walked into the building.

“Depends. I want to work in my workroom, but I want to spend time with you.”

“I could watch you, couldn’t I?” Peter asked. “ _That_ isn’t strenuous.”

“If you want.”

He was pleased by the response; it was what he’d hoped Peter was going to say, but the stools in his lab weren’t that comfortable, and there weren’t any sofas or even anything with upholstery on them to sit on.

“Yeah.”

“We’ll have breakfast, and give Robert a chance to look you over, first.”

<><>><> 

They had breakfast alone in the lounge. Everyone stopped by on their way to begin their own morning, but they only stopped the table long enough to say good morning, check on how Peter was feeling and to pet Bob. To Peter’s amusement, Sam’s video had already made its way through the ranks of the Avengers, and there were plenty of amused looks and comments about an Ironman chew toy.

Tony would simply roll his eyes and remind them all that Bob was part of the family and had to be allowed to have his fun, too.

“Speaking of fun…” Tony said, suddenly, right as they were finishing their meal.

He was looking toward the entrance of the lounge, which made Peter turn and look, as well. A delivery person – being escorted by security – was pushing a dolly that had several boxes on it into the room, and ended up stacking the boxes against the side of the bar.

“What’s that?” Peter asked, curiously.

“We were running out of puzzles. I wanted to make sure there were enough.”

“Those are all puzzles?”

“Nope. There might be some other things in there, as well.”

Tony’s expression was filled with cheerful anticipation, which told Peter that whatever it was, it was almost certainly something the billionaire thought he was going to enjoy.

“Like what?”

“ _Things_ ,” Tony repeated. “Y-“

They were interrupted by Robert, who crossed the room to join them, holding a cup of coffee in his hand. A paper cup with a Starbuck’s logo on it. The compound didn’t _have_ a Starbucks, of course, although Tony was tempted to install one. The coffee there was good, but then it would be _great_.

“You’ve been out and about?” he asked the doctor when he sat down between them.

“I _have_. Had an early morning call that just happened to put me right beside the coffee place down the road.”

“The one with the cute barista?” Tony asked, knowingly. “The barista who flirts with you?”

“That’s the one. She’s cute.”

“And _married_.”

“True.” The doctor made a show of allowing a long, sad, sigh escape his lips before he turned to Peter with a wink. “How do you feel this morning?”

“I’m okay.”

“Weakness? Any pain? How did you sleep?”

“I had a bad dream…” Peter admitted. “But I ate, and then went back to sleep, and I don’t think I had any more.”

He looked at Tony for confirmation, and the older man nodded.

“He had a couple of sandwiches, some milk and then slept the rest of the night, Robert.”

“Good.” He turned back to Peter. “Do you hurt?”

“My legs are sore.”

“From being used after being in bed for so long,” the doctor said. “What about your back and shoulders?”

They were the places that had taken the brunt of the beating.

“No. Not really.”

“Tired?”

“Not right now.”

“Weakness? Any sensations like you feel like you might fall down, or a leg is giving out under you while you were walking?”

“No. I feel okay.”

“Good. Then you can stay out of bed for a while, today. Nothing too crazy, though.”

“I’m going to watch Tony work on his new suit.”

“That’ll be perfect.”

He’d be upright, but not moving around, too much.

“I’ll keep him out of trouble,” Tony promised.

The doctor snorted, now, and picked up his coffee.

“I saw how well _you_ stayed out of trouble this morning. Do a better job with our young friend, here, will you?”

Tony rolled his eyes, aware now that Robert had seen Sam’s video, too.

“Bob’s a _monster_ …” he pointed out, sliding his foot along the mastiff’s side under the table. “Peter’s a scrawny, little guy, who listens to reason. We’ll be fine.”

Peter grinned at that, and Robert nodded and stood up.

“Finish your breakfast, Peter,” he ordered. “If anything comes up, I’ll be in the compound all day.”

“Thanks, Robert,” Tony said, even as Peter started to say the same thing.

“You’re welcome.”

He left them, then, and Tony smiled at Peter.

“Eat, honey,” he said, softly. “Then I’ll show you what FRIDAY and I have been working on.”

><><><><> 

“Wow… you’re almost done with it?”

Tony shook his head, and then shrugged, looking over Peter’s shoulder at the display in front of him. When they’d entered his workroom, Bob had found a chew bone waiting by the bed that was now a permanent fixture in one corner – next to a self cycling water dish – and had settled easily, while Tony had put Peter on a chair in front of the display, and walked him through what new developments they’d made in his new suit.

“Not even close to the finished product,” he admitted. “But the prototype is getting there. FRIDAY and I spent a lot of time while I watched you sleep working on how to get the nanotech to form the way I want it to. She thinks we’ll be ready to try it out by tomorrow – just to see how it goes.”

“Wow.”

Tony smiled, putting his arms around Peter from behind and resting his chin on the top of the boy’s soft curls.

“Impressed?”

“Yeah. Who wouldn’t be?”

Tony brushed a kiss against his ear, pleased. He had his own praise kink to feed, too, after all – and Peter was enthralled enough that it was filling all those little spaces inside him.

“Trade me places, baby,” he said with a final hug, pulling another stool over for the boy to sit on. “We’ll see if we can’t be ready for our first trial, tomorrow.”

Peter stood up and moved out of the way so Tony could sit down. Normally, though, he would have simply taken the spot next to him, standing behind and beside him, leaning against him with an arm around him and his cheek resting somewhere near his arm or his shoulder and watching.

He wasn’t going to be allowed to stand that long, he knew (and he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to, anyway) so he scooted the stool right up against Tony’s and leaned, slightly, so he could be in contact with him.

Well aware of what he was doing, Tony slid an arm around Peter’s waist, idly, and went to work one-handed. It would slow his progress, but there were more important things than finishing that morning, and if it took longer, then it took longer.

Peter came first.


	193. 193

It was unclear just who was more annoyed when FRIDAY reminded Tony that it was lunchtime. The billionaire scowled almost by reflex; annoyed at being interrupted when he was in the groove. But then he shrugged it off, and allowed his focus to go back to Peter, who had been silent while he worked, just enjoying the quiet time, watching Tony tinker with the tech that suited him so well.

“Hungry?”

“No.”

Peter wanted to keep going. He wanted to see what the billionaire and his amazing AI could do with the final placement of the nanotechnology, and the interruption was in the way of that. Besides, breakfast hadn’t been that long ago – just several hours. He could wait to eat.

Tony wasn’t having any of that, however.

He understood, completely, but _he_ wanted his baby to eat.

“Come on,” he said, standing up and then pulling Peter to his feet, as well. “We’ll work on it, again, later.”

“Tonight?”

“Maybe. I might just run a trial tomorrow and see what happens – and then start working out whatever bugs come up. You can help.”

With that promise, Peter was slightly mollified.

Enough that he lost his slightly perturbed expression and allowed Tony to take advantage of the privacy of his workshop and pull Peter into a hug that ended with a gentle kiss that left them both smiling and in a much better mood – despite the interruption.

“That’s nice, daddy…” Peter told him, leaning slightly against Tony so he could put his arms around him.

Nothing _more_ than that, however, since he knew Tony would just remind him that he was under doctor’s orders to not do anything too strenuous.

“It is…” Tony agreed. He pressed a series of butterfly kisses against Peter’s cheek and the corner of his mouth. “Come on, honey. You need to move around a little, and our lazy dog is snoring too loud for me to concentrate, anyway.”

They woke Bob and headed for the lounge, and Peter remembered that he had some phone calls to make, so he pulled his phone out to take advantage of the quiet corridors.

Ned answered on the second ring.

“Peter? Is that you?”

“Hey. Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.”

Tony’s hand was on his shoulder, and it tightened, just a little.

“Jesus, I’m just glad that you’re calling, now. How are you? My mom is freaking out, dude. She’s determined that we need to storm the compound – Avengers or no – and make sure you’re not being held for some kind of crazy experiments. You never should have told her about Dr. Banner being a research scientist.”

Peter laughed at that.

“Tell her that I’m fine.”

“Tell him to ask her if he can come out here, tomorrow…”

_“Really?!”_ Ned didn’t need Peter to pass the message on; he’d heard Tony just fine. “ _Can I?”_

“If your mom and dad agree,” Tony replied. “Ask them – while we still have you on the phone.”

_“Yeah. Hold on.”_

Ned didn’t mute the phone. They both could hear him running up the stairs – presumably the ones from the comic shop – and shouting for his mom or dad. Then there was a flurry of conversation that was punctuated _with ‘if I don’t go, I’ll probably be emotionally scarred for life’_ and _‘how much therapy can you guys really afford?’_ and a final _‘he said they’re not experimenting on him.’_ Then Ned’s mom came on the phone, reassured herself that Peter was fine, and told Tony they could drive Ned out, if he needed them to.

“I’ll have my driver pick him up,” the billionaire said. “Ned’s met him. We’ll pick him up at 10 and bring him home some time in the early evening.”

She agreed, and put Ned back on the phone.

_“What should I bring?”_

“Just yourself,” Tony told him. “We’ll feed you and take care of the entertainment.”

_“Sweet!”_

He had to go, because he was in charge of the store, just then, and Peter was grinning when they entered the lounge.

“He doesn’t _need_ entertainment. He could just watch the people here and keep himself occupied for hours, I bet.”

“We can do better than that, I imagine.”

><><><>>< 

They had lunch at what was pretty much their table, now.

After they ordered burgers and fries, Peter called Monica, and spent almost half an hour assuring her that he was doing much better and thanking her, repeatedly, for thinking of him and sending him so many flower arrangements. She eventually made him give his phone to Tony, who was clearly amused by the grilling the old woman put him through; making sure that Peter was getting enough rest, and was eating, and was being taken care of, properly.

He finally must have convinced her, because he ended the call after promising that they were going to be home in a few days.

“I love that woman,” he said to Peter, handing him back his phone. “But she gives Romanoff a run for the money when it comes to interrogation tactics.”

“I love her, too,” Peter said, sincerely.

An arm came around him from behind and a sexy, sultry, voice suddenly spoke in his ear.

“Are you talking about loving another woman?” Natasha Romanoff said, whispering in Peter’s ear. “You understand that I’m jealous and crazy, right?”

Peter laughed, smiling when she let him go and sat down across from him with a cheerful wink.

“Monica,” he told her. “She was asking Tony for proof that I’m okay.”

“Did you send a photo of you with today’s newspaper?”

“No one reads the newspaper, anymore,” Tony pointed out, amused to see the most dangerous woman in the world flirt with the most adorable superhero in the making. It was a good thing he knew she wasn’t serious, or he’d have had been worried that he had competition. Peter loved Natasha – luckily, though, it wasn’t even close to the same way that Peter loved _him_. “We’d have had to take a picture with the tablet, or something – and she’d have replied with a comment about photoshop.”

“So, how did you convince her?” Natasha asked, curiously, stealing a French fry from Tony’s plate.

“I didn’t,” he replied, pushing his plate closer to her. “When we get back to the apartment, her place will be our first stop so she can make a fuss over him – and probably stuff him full of freshly baked peanut butter cookies.”

“Ooo, no wonder you love her.”

Peter nodded.

“See how that works? She’s like the grandma I never knew.”

The assassin smiled at that.

“Are you done working on your suit?”

“Yeah. For now. Why?”

“Because we opened your boxes…”

Peter frowned, automatically looking at the bar, where boxes that had been delivered that morning had been stashed. He realized that none of them were there, now.

“You want to do a puzzle?” he asked her, more than willing.

They all already knew how he felt about them.

Romanoff smiled – as did Tony.

“Yes. But not right now.” She stole a couple of more fries from Tony’s plate and stood up, wiping her hand on a napkin before offering it to Peter. “Come see.”

“See what?” he asked, curiously, also standing up, but looking at Tony, who was smiling and had that smug look on his face that told Peter whatever it was, it was probably either interesting, or extravagant.

Or both.

“Just something I thought you might like,” the billionaire said, also standing. He looked at Natasha. “You set it up?”

“Yes. In the field.”

“Good choice.”

“Set what up?” Peter asked, again, knowing even as he did that neither of them were going to answer him.

They had that look.

“Come on,” Natasha said, again, tugging on him to get him moving. “They’re waiting for us.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but he didn’t pull away, and he went willingly – not even asking who _they_ were, since he knew she wouldn’t tell him.

><><>><><> 

“What…?”

There were four of them waiting, and they all looked over when Peter walked out of the building with Natasha and Tony – and Bob.

“Hurry up, Peter,” Clint called, impatiently. “We’re _waiting_.”

They were, too. All four were standing at the edge of the grassy field. Each was holding a controller. Clint, Steve, Sam and Bruce had cars at their feet, and there three more, waiting, Peter saw as they walked over.

“Remote control cars?” Peter asked, even as Sam handed him a controller, and Tony and Natasha were each given one, as well.

“Radio controlled,” Tony corrected. “Remote means a cord. These bad boys can do top speeds of thirty miles an hour, even in the grass.”

Bruce frowned.

“Did you just call them _bad boys_ …?”

“It’s hip slang, Banner,” Tony told him, which made Natasha roller her eyes and the others smile. “Get with the times.” He looked down at his controller, and then at Peter. “You know how to control it?”

The boy looked at the controller he was holding, and shrugged.

“I think so.”

It looked fairly simple.

The seven cars were each a different color, and Peter wondered, idly, if someone had chosen the green one for Bruce, or if he’d picked it, himself. His was red, Steve’s blue, Tony’s was white, Natasha was holding the controller for the black one, Sam’s was orange and Clint’s was a hot pink.

“We made a course,” Sam said, pointing at several obstacles that were lined in an obvious pattern. “Miss an obstacle, and you have to go back for it. Five laps, anything goes. Winner gets bragging rights – and the losers have to eat a worm.”

“What are you, _five_?” Clint asked, looking over at him. “I’m not eating a _worm_.”

“I’m not _losing_ ,” Tony said. “So _I_ don’t need to worry about it.”

“Winner gets bragging rights, and the last car across the line buys ice cream for the others,” Natasha suggested.

“Done.”

The others agreed, and the silence of the early afternoon was suddenly broken by the miniature sound of seven tiny engines revving.

“Call it, Cap…” Tony said, making the other man smile – although no one saw it since they were all looking down at their cars.

The competition was with little race cars, but that didn’t make it any less serious for any of them, after all.

_“Go!”_


	194. 194

“Where are you guys going?”

Tony scowled, looking at Nick and ignoring the amused smirks on almost every face of those around him.

“We’re going to Dairy Queen.”

Fury tilted his head, just a little.

“Did Peter get another paycheck?”

The boy shook his head, smiling.

“Tony is buying us ice cream. Want to come?”

“He _is?”_ Nick gave an amusing impression of utter shock that made Natasha actually snort. “Right now?”

“He came in last,” Clint confirmed. “Which means my banana split and root beer float are on him.”

“I have a meeting,” Fury said, already walking away. Someone would explain what they were talking about, eventually. “Bring me back a box of Dilly bars.”

“I didn’t hear anything in the bet about buying drinks,” Tony told the others as they reached one of the large SUVs; big enough to fit 7 Avengers (well, 6 ½ Avengers) and one large dog, who was just going along for the ride – and maybe a bowl of vanilla soft serve. “I’m just buying ice cream.”

“I want some chicken strips,” Natasha told him, buckling up beside Peter who had taken the seat behind Tony. “With that toast that they have there.” The billionaire scowled at her reflection in the mirror, but she smiled as she caught his gaze. “Peter? You’d eat some chicken with me, won’t you?”

“Yeah.”

He was in a good mood and willing to agree with anything – even eating a meal that he wasn’t really hungry for. He’d come in first three times of the five races that they’d had. Clint had pointed out that it was probably from being good at video games, and Sam had wanted to disqualify him because of it – and was outvoted.

Tony shook his head, bemused, but impressed at how smoothly Romanoff had talked Peter into eating, again.

“Fine. I’ll buy food and drinks. _This_ time. You guys are on your own, next time.”

They were a noisy group as Steve drove them to the fast food place, and they simply went through the drive thru, rather than cause a huge commotion with so many superheroes in one place. (they wouldn’t have been able to focus on their food with people constantly coming up and asking them for pictures, and their ice cream would have melted).

Instead, they took it to go, went back to the compound, delivering Nick’s box of treats to the freezer in the lounge before sitting around a table eating. They didn’t stay long; all of them but Tony and Peter were, technically, still working – even though they’d cleared a chunk of their afternoon free to spend time playing.

Something they didn’t do enough of, and were aware that it had taken the addition of a youngster to remind them of it.

As the others finished their snack and left in singles and in pairs, Tony and Bruce sat with Peter, who had eaten his chicken and some fries but probably wasn’t going to finish the peanut butter cup blizzard he was working on.

“When are you guys going back to the apartment?” Bruce asked Tony, who was polishing off his hot fudge sundae with no problem since he hadn’t ordered any food for himself.

Just the ice cream.

“It’ll be a few days. Ned’s coming here, tomorrow just before lunch. The weekend’s coming, so maybe if Robert is in agreement – we’ll shoot for going back this weekend. Back to school on Monday, and the lab whatever days you need him.”

“Monday, Thursday and Friday.”

“Peter?”

The boy nodded.

“Sounds good.”

He was eager to get back to his job – and for his classes to begin, again.

Bruce left them, too, then, and Tony decided that Peter looked tired and was probably ready for a nap – even if he wasn’t going to admit it.

“I’m going to go take a break,” he told the boy. “Come spend time with me?”

“Definitely.”

They walked back to Tony’s room, with Bob walking beside Peter, who was surreptitiously using the dog as a crutch of sorts, even though Tony wasn’t setting a quick pace by any means. The boy was willing to admit – to himself, at least – that he was probably ready to settle in for a while and get off his feet, and the dog probably never even noticed the boy’s slight weight.

Tony shut the door and locked it, and took Peter’s hand, pulling him into his arms.

“Hi, baby…”

Peter smiled. It never got old being called that.

“Hi, daddy.”

“How do you feel? Tired?”

“A little,” the boy admitted, allowing his cheek to rest on Tony’s chest.

“So do I.” Tony didn’t undress him, even though he was sorely tempted to do just that. Instead he simply led Peter to the bed and settled both of them on it, on the bedding, and pulling a lightweight blanket up over Peter, who cuddled against him, with a satisfied sigh that made Tony smile and put an arm around him. “You’re so pretty…”

Peter smiled, feeling a little surge of playfulness – probably brought on by the sugar coursing through his system from the blizzard and the candy in it. He raised up, just a little, so he could look into Tony’s eyes.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

As he’d hoped he would, the older man chuckled and leaned into him, to kiss him, softly.

“Is it working?”

“Maybe a little.”

Or a _lot_.

“Yeah?” Tony kissed him, again, and then pressed him back down, his head going to the same pillow Tony was using, sharing it with the boy and close enough to him that he could kiss him with very little effort. “You’re adorable. You know that, right?”

“Because you tell me all the time.”

Tony reached out and cupped his cheek, using his thumb to caress the area around Peter’s eye, lightly.

“Because it’s true all the time.” His expression tightened. “I was so worried when you were taken…”

“It was scary,” Peter admitted.

“Yeah. I was thinking that we could have you talk to someone about it. Maybe see if we can keep you from having nightmares about what happened to you.”

“A psychiatrist?”

“Something like that…” he continued caressing him, keeping the conversation relaxed. “I think they might be able to pick up where the guy your aunt and uncle were having you go to left off. Maybe work on getting some of the nightmares to fade a bit. What do _you_ think?”

“If you want.”

“It’s not always what I want, honey,” Tony reminded him. “I want you to be happy. I want you to feel safe going to sleep at night – and able to stay asleep.” Realizing that he’d just said two things _he_ wanted right after telling Peter it wasn’t about him, Tony smiled. “You know I’ll do whatever makes you happy, right?”

“Will you talk to this guy, too?”

“Me?”

Peter nodded.

“You have bad dreams, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe he could help you with them.”

Tony smiled.

“Maybe. I’ll see if Pepper knows anyone.”

“Someone who knows I’m Spider-man?”

Tony hesitated, and then shrugged.

“Some people already know. People who aren’t Avengers…”

“The guy that beat me up knew,” Peter told him, looking worried, suddenly. “I didn’t tell him.”

Tony realized that he was worried that he might be mad about it. He smiled, instead, still using his thumb to soothe.

“Yeah. We know. It might be safer for you if _everyone_ knew.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because then people would know that you’re one of the Avengers, and they wouldn’t mess with you. They wouldn’t dream of doing anything to hurt you, because they’d have to deal with all of the others coming after them.”

Peter smiled, his eyes tired, now, as he succumbed to Tony’s gentle voice and soft caress. but also excited.

“I’m not one, though.”

“Not technically. But only because you still have a lot to learn. You could be an intern. Working with Bruce in his lab, and working with the Avengers when you have free time.”

“They’d let me?”

“Yeah.”

Peter hesitated, now.

“What do you think?”

“About making your identity public?”

“Yes.”

Tony chuckled.

“You know what I think about secret identities, honey. You’re already making the news because people think you’re my son – or my godson, depending on who you watch on TV. I can’t imagine it would be too much more publicity if it were to come out.”

“And it might be fun to say…”

“What?”

“I _am_ Spider-man.”

The older man smiled, knowing that it was a reference to when he stood in front of a lot of press and told them he was Ironman.

“Think about it, alright?”

“I will.”

“And about seeing the psychologist.”

“Okay.”

“But for now…” Tony leaned in and brushed another kiss against his cheek, and then his lips. “Go to sleep.”

Peter closed his eyes.

“Yes, daddy.”


	195. 195

“Sure you’re up for this?”

Peter nodded, glancing at Tony before looking back toward the road, where the car was just pulling up to the front of the compound.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

The inevitable hand came up to his forehead, though, and he smiled but didn’t pull away, knowing that Tony was a little nervous about letting him have too much excitement – and Ned coming to visit him was _pretty_ exciting, really.

They’d had a good evening, the night before. After their nap, they’d had dinner and had been joined by Rhodey – who didn’t actually live at the compound, Peter knew; he just spent time there when he needed to consult or when he wanted to spend time with Tony in a less formal capacity than what being the military liaison usually afforded.

Steve had eaten with them, too, and the four had then spent the evening playing cards. Tony and Steve had taken on Peter and Rhodey in Pinochle and then Hearts, and were soundly trounced both times. Rhodey was very good at cards, which was why he was partnered with Peter, who wasn’t any good, but learned quickly enough that he didn’t drag his partner down with him.

Then it had been a quiet night cuddled in Tony’s arms in the older man’s bed, lulled to sleep with tender caresses and gentle words of love. He didn’t remember having any bad dreams, and hadn’t been woken by Tony having any, either. If not for Bob waking them at his usual early hour, they might have slept through breakfast, even, they were that comfortable.

Of course, Tony wouldn’t have allowed Peter to miss a meal. Especially since it seemed that Robert’s restrictions on how much activity the boy was being allowed at any one time seemed to be helping Peter regain his stamina. That and Peter’s incredible constitution, of course. His body was healed, now, and was just working on regaining the energy it had used up taking care of the terrible wounds. With no strain from any kind of activities, the hearty meals Tony and the others were stuffing into him went solely into the recovery process.

But Ned was coming. And he was a ball of energy.

Tony nodded.

“We’ll keep it low-key, okay? A tour, some lunch, maybe play with the radio controlled cars, or see what he wants to do.”

“Yeah.”

Peter’s smile was broad, though, when the car stopped in front of them, and Ned opened the door and got out, long before Happy had a chance to get out and come around and open it.

“ _Peter_! Man am I glad to see you.” His friend looked like he wanted to hug him, but instead settled for a huge smile. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m good, now.”

“Jesus, dude. I thought that guy was… well… he was a serious prick, wasn’t he?”

“My thoughts, exactly,” Tony said, before Peter had a chance to reply. “Good morning, Ned. How was the drive?”

The boy grinned, realizing (again) that he was standing in front of Tony _freaking_ Stark having a regular conversation, like the guy wasn’t Ironman and super amazing. Tony was pleased that Ned had greeted _Peter_ , first, which showed where his loyalties were.

“Seriously? A limo? It was _awesome_ , Mr. Stark. I played the radio, and the video games, raided the fridge, watched TV – it has WiFi in it. You knew that, right?”

“Yes.” It was a bit more advanced than that, but on regular devices it would show as WiFi. “We thought we’d give you a bit of a tour, to start with…” Tony told him, changing the subject. “I know you saw a little bit of the compound while you were here, before, but now that Peter’s on his feet, we can show you some of the things you missed, last time.”

“Great.”

><>><> 

As days went, it was a good one. Not just for Ned – although he had the best time, by far – but for the others.

Ned was an appreciative audience, and as Peter’s friend (who had been caught up in the scary happenings of the abduction) Tony went all out to make sure he had the time of his life – and had recruited the others to make sure that it happened.

As they walked the younger boy through the compound, various Avengers would present themselves, seemingly at random, to be introduced to Ned – or reintroduced, if he’d already met them. They’d always be willing to pose for a photo, or two, and Ned’s camera was almost always in his hand.

They had lunch in the lounge with Natasha and Steve, took a lot more photos, and then finished the tour in Tony’s workroom – where Ned was shown the suits that were completed and stored there, and given a chance to spend a little time drooling over the tech that Tony was using.

He was smart enough to understand most of what he was being shown without needing too much explanation, and Tony even described the new nanotech he was working on – although he didn’t bring it up on the displays.

Until it was perfected, it would stay secret and mysterious.

When they were done in the workroom, they took the radio controlled cars out to the field and Tony watched from the edge of the grass as Peter and his friend designed complicated courses for them to race on using odds and ends found in a little gardener’s shed and sticks and dirt that was already close at hand.

“Do you know how to drive, yet?” Ned asked Peter as they picked up their tools and headed back to where Tony was waiting, watching them, with Bob lounging close at hand, enjoying the pale afternoon sun.

“No. You?”

“My grandpa let me drive his golf cart, but that’s it. My dad said he’d teach me. Maybe he’ll teach you, too, if you want.”

“Teach you what?” Tony asked, curiously, only hearing the last part of the conversation as the boys approached.

“How to drive,” Ned replied.

“Your dad will have to stand in line for that one,” Tony told him, handing both boys their controllers. “I know Happy’s already mentioned that _he’s_ planning to teach Peter.”

“Not _you_?”

The billionaire smiled.

“Happy drives _professionally_. He could put anyone in the compound in his dust in a matter of moments – including Natasha Romanoff. So, you get the guy who has the most experience to do the teaching to the guy who has the least, right?”

Ned shrugged, good-naturedly.

“Yeah. I suppose, so.”

How cool would it be, though, for Peter to be able to say that _Ironman_ taught him to drive?

“Besides,” Tony said, still amused and holding up his controller, warning both boys that he was going to start the race whether they were ready or not. “Happy’s _bigger_ than me.”

And Peter was _his_ , too. Tony knew it – even if he hated sharing.

><><><<><>> 

They couldn’t keep Ned overnight. Not that Tony hadn’t offered to put him up, but the boy had to help in the store the next day. They were much busier, now, thanks to the promo that Tony had done for them – and _continued_ to do, every now and then on his social media; reminding the world (and New York, in particular) just where all the cool nerds were doing their comic shopping.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Ned said as they walked him back out to the car, where Happy was waiting, leaning against the driver’s door and chatting with Robert. Almost certainly about Peter, to judge from the way both men kept glancing his direction. “I had a great time.”

“You’re welcome, Ned. It was good to see you, again.”

“Are you coming to D&D Thursday?”

“We’ll check the schedule and see. Tell your folks I said hello.”

“I will.”

He said his goodbyes to Tony and headed to the car with Peter and Bob, while Robert moved to stand next to Tony.

“He looks tired,” the doctor noted with a disapproving tone.

“He always looks tired, Robert,” the billionaire said. “But he had a good time and he didn’t do anything strenuous. I’ll feed him and put him to bed, early, tonight. Did you talk to the guy?”

“I did. He’ll be here, tomorrow.”

“A _house call?_ Impressive.”

The doctor snorted.

“An invitation to the Avenger compound? Who’d say no to _that_?”

They both watched as Ned shook Peter’s hand, grinning in happiness at the exciting time that he’d had before thanking Happy for opening the door for him.

“No one.”

_Obviously_.


	196. 196

“Where’s Peter?”

Tony walked over to the table where Natasha was sitting with Clint.

“He’s asleep.”

“You let him skip dinner?”

The billionaire shook his head.

“I’m going to bring him something and wake him up to make him eat, but he was tired and I didn’t want to force him to walk all the way here…”

The way he said it made it clear that Peter had used that argument – which he had. They’d seen Ned off, said goodbye to Robert and had walked together to Peter’s room, where he had sat down on the bed and closed his eyes – and promptly told Tony that he was too tired to eat dinner when the older man had suggested they go get something.

“You need to eat something, honey,” Tony had told him, lightly caressing his cheek – which was only helping to put Peter to sleep, and Tony knew it. He just couldn’t help the fact that he loved touching him. “A _sandwich_ , at least…”

“I’ll eat a big breakfast,” Peter promised, shifting on the bed a little, until his head was resting on Tony’s leg. “I’m ready to sleep.”

“Then I’ll bring something to you – but you wake up and eat it when I get back. Fair?”

“Yes.”

“The shrink’s coming, tomorrow?” Clint asked.

Tony scowled.

“Don’t call him that in front of Peter, alright? I don’t want him feeling self-conscious about seeing a therapist.”

Natasha leveled the archer with one of her killer looks.

“He won’t.”

Clint smiled and nodded.

“I won’t. Not that there’s anything wrong with seeing one.”

“Make sure we mention that,” Tony said. “Subtly, though. He’s not stupid.”

“We can do that,” Romanoff assured him.

The conversation was cut off when the bartender called him over, holding up a bag with a couple of to-go boxes.

“That was fast,” Barton said.

Tony tolled his eyes.

“It’s sandwiches and chips. Not a gourmet meal.”

“You have a better chance of getting him to eat the simple stuff, right now.”

“My thoughts, exactly.”

He excused himself and went to pick up their dinner.

><><><><>< 

Peter was still asleep when he returned to his room. Tony closed the door and locked it behind him, automatically checking Bob, who was also asleep in his bed against the wall. Tony smiled, thinking that a year ago if someone had told him he was going to be so domesticated (live in lover and a dog) he would have sent for _them_ a shrink.

The older man sat down on the edge of the bed, putting the bag on the stand by the bed and then leaned over and kissed Peter’s forehead.

“Hey, baby… wake up.”

Peter opened his eyes, sleepily, and smiled, automatically – either in reaction to the kiss, or just having Tony close at hand.

“It’s morning?”

“No. But wake up a bit and eat dinner with me.”

He grumbled, a little, but he did what he was told, which told Tony that he wasn’t exhausted, just _tired_. That wasn’t too bad.

Tony waited until he was upright, and then settled one of the to-go boxes in his lap, and then added a couple of napkins.

“You can go back to sleep when we’re done,” je promised.

Peter nodded, looking over at Tony, and leaning against him for just a moment.

“You do so much for me.”

The billionaire smiled, softly, and his arm went around the boy, even as he pulled him a little closer to press a kiss against the top of his head.

“Because I love you. Besides, you’re do it for me, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He let him go, to give him room to use both hands to eat, but kept him close. “Eat, honey.”

Peter opened the box, nodding his approval, and he took a bite of his sandwich.

“How would you tell Ned that you were Spiderman?” he asked.

“Do you want to tell him?”

“Do you think it would freak him out? I mean, I’m not really _normal_.”

“You’re _incredible_ , Peter,” Tony told him. “Don’t even think of being self-conscious about how amazing you are and the wonderful things you can do.”

The boy flushed at the praise.

“Still… how… what do you think he’d say?”

“I think he’d be excited,” the older man said, honestly. “He’s like that, right? Besides, he’s a superhero nut. And _you’re_ a superhero.”

“Not yet.”

“Going to be, though.”

Peter smiled at that.

“I _do_ want to tell him.”

“Then you should. He would keep it a secret.”

The boy nodded his agreement and took another bite, suddenly hungry, despite the big lunch that he’d had not all that long ago, really.

They discussed the new armor while they made their way through their meal and Tony told the boy they’d test the nanotech late the next the morning. He pointed out that he wanted to have a good night’s sleep under his belt before he did anything.

Not that he needed the sleep, really; he’d built the previous incarnations of the Ironman suit either sleep deprived, or in an alcohol-induced haze – or _both_. But he was well aware that if they went to his workroom that evening and started experimenting with the new armor, they would be up all night.

He took Peter’s now empty dinner box and set it into the bag on the nightstand, once more, but before he could get up to throw it away, Peter rolled toward him, pressing lightly against him and bringing an arm over his stomach where his hand settled, delightfully.

“I love you, daddy…” he murmured, sliding his fingers along the fabric of the t-shirt Tony was wearing.

“I love you, too, baby.”

Peter tucked his face against Tony’s shoulder, but his hand was still moving, now, and sliding lower. Tony tensed, watching the hand go under the waistband of his pants.

“Peter…”

“Hmmm?”

The hand didn’t stop its slow advance, and the boy found what he was looking for a moment later, fingers wrapping around Tony’s already stiffening penis.

“You should rest.”

His voice was unsteady and breathless.

“I’m _resting_ ,” the boy pointed out.

Tony’s heart was the one that was beating fast, just then. Not Peter’s.

It beat even faster when Peter’s thumb brushed the sensitive head and Tony groaned.

“Honey…”

“I want to take care of you,” Peter said, his head still pressed against Tony’s shirt, and his voice slightly muffled. “You don’t have to do anything to me, so I’ll still be resting.” His hand was tender, his touch skillfully arousing Tony. “ _Please_ , daddy.”

Tony had no defense against Peter at his most beseeching – because he really didn’t ask for much, very often. He gave a strangled noise that Peter understood was agreement, and the boy move, again. Now he knelt beside where Tony was lounging on the bed, and he opened the older man’s pants freeing his cock.

Tony moaned when Peter bent over and took him into his mouth, and his hand brushed the boy’s hair, forcing himself not to grab a handful of it and holding him in place.

“God, baby… you’re so good.”

Peter mumbled against the tender flesh in his mouth, which was even more stimulating, and Tony’s next noise was more agonized. Which only encouraged the boy. His head began bobbing, slowly at first and then further as Peter’s saliva and Tony’s precum allowed the boy easier control over his motions and Tony suddenly realized that Peter had deepthroated him and was holding himself down on Tony’s aching cock.

“Fuck…”

Peter pulled back, only gagging a little as he allowed Tony’s cock to slide out of his mouth, slick with drool. The boy turned his head and smiled at Tony, who about came right then and there at the sight of Peter leaned over his cock looking so triumphant.

“Liked that?”

“Finish me off, honey,” Tony told him, delighted at the self-confidence the boy was exhibiting. “Stop playing with your food.”

Peter chuckled and then bent his head, again, and did as he was told, going to work on Tony’s cock with enthusiasm. He sucked just the head, worked his way along the shaft, used his lips and tongue to tease Tony until the older man was grabbing the bedding with both hands, entire body tense as his hips moved of their own volition, silently urging Peter on, begging for a release he hadn’t felt in far too long.

“Please, baby…”

A hand came to his testicles to roll them and tease them, and Peter took him into his throat, once more, which was all it took.

Tony gave a short, soft, grunt and climaxed, his hands tightening in the blankets, and his balls emptying into Peter’s mouth. His baby gave a pleased noise as he swallowed him down, and then continued sucking at him, licking and slurping, which – of course – only spurred Tony’s dwindling orgasm to completion.

A final kiss against the very tip of his cock, and a final pass of Peter’s tongue over Tony’s shaft, and the boy simply pulled a throw blanket over them, keeping Tony in his hand as he settled back against him, still caressing that ultra-sensitive rod, but now it was more of a comfort thing.

“You liked that?” he asked Tony, resting his head on his chest.

“You know I did.”

“So did I.”

The billionaire chuckled, kissing Peter’s temple but not even trying to free himself from his baby’s grasp.

“Wait until I get you home, sweetheart,” he promised. “Daddy’s going to make love to you all night.”  The boy shivered at the promise, and Tony gathered him close. “Go to sleep, Peter. I’ll keep you safe.”

The hand in the older man’s lap stilled as Peter did as he was told.


	197. 197

“He’s coming today?”

“Yes.” Tony smiled, brushing Peter’s hair back from his forehead. “Don’t look so nervous. You’ve talked to a therapist before. It’s fine.”

“What do I tell him?”

It had been a long time, really. Peter barely remembered the man. Honestly, wasn’t even sure if it had been a man or a woman – they just had that faceless voice in his memories.

“Whatever you want – although not about us, if you can avoid it. We’re still a secret to the world around us.”

Most of it, anyway.

“Can I tell him I’m Spiderman?”

“Yes. He can’t tell anyone.”

“What if he _does_?”

“He’ll get in trouble,” Tony told him. And maybe worse, if Romanoff found out about it – but he didn’t tell Peter that. The boy knew Natasha was deadly, but probably didn’t know just _how_ dangerous she really was. “But that might not be a secret much longer anyway, if you decide to come out of that particular closet.”

“Yeah…”

He didn’t look completely calm about the idea of the psychologist but since Tony knew that Peter wasn’t the best at new things, he wasn’t too concerned. Robert had chosen – and spoken to – the guy, and had proclaimed he was a good fit for Peter; meaning calming and patient.

“Come on, honey,” Tony said, patting the boy’s bony shoulder. “Get dressed and we’ll have breakfast. When you’re done talking to this guy, we’ll go try out my new nanotech suit.”

That perked Peter up, as Tony had known it would. He nodded and got off the bed.

“That’s going to be great.”

“Yeah.” Tony stretched, feeling good for having had a good night’s sleep. “Come to my rooms when you’re ready. I’m going to go change, too.”

“Okay.”

Tony smiled, kissed him and then left.

><><><><><> 

The psychologist was a small man – not much bigger than Peter, himself. He had a mustache, glasses, and a warm smile that made Peter echo it without realizing it as they were being introduced. Black hair, friendly green eyes and a thin face.

“Peter?” Robert said, a hand resting lightly on the back of the stranger – subtly telling the boy that he was a friend. “This is Allen Hayes. Allen? This is Peter Parker.”

The man offered Peter his hand.

“Mr. Parker. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Peter took it.

“Oh. I’m, yeah. I mean, you can just call me _Peter_ , Mr. – I mean… Dr.? Hayes…”

“Then you can call me Allen.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I join you?”

Peter nodded, and took the seat he’d vacated when Tony had been advised by FRIDAY that the psychologist was there, and that Robert was bringing him to the lounge. They’d finished breakfast and were just starting one of the puzzles – more to keep Peter distracted from being nervous, than anything.

Tony and Robert sat down, as well, not quite ready to let Peter be left alone with him – since he still looked nervous.

“Who’s your friend, here” Allen asked, casually, looking down at the big mastiff who was watching the newcomer.

“That's Bob.”

The doctor looked at Robert, who shook his head.

“He was already named when Tony and Peter rescued him from a place up the road. They didn’t name him after me.”

“He’s yours?” Allen asked Peter.

“He’s _Tony’s_ , but I live with them, so he’s mine, too.”

“Good looking dog,” Allen told them, approvingly.

“Yeah.”

The four sat at the table and Peter told Allen about how they’d found Bob, and then telling the doctor the story about how Tony and Happy had found _him_. Then Hayes told Peter a little about himself, and his family.

The conversation lasted about an hour, and ended with the four of them working on the puzzle, just discussing how interesting it must be, being at the Avenger’s compound. Peter enjoyed the conversation and was much more relaxed with the newcomer by the time Allen announced that he was out of time and needed to head back to the city.

“Show me your rooms, here, first,” the psychologist requested, looking at Peter, who nodded.

“Sure.”

“We’ll meet you out front in fifteen minutes,” Robert told them as they stood up.

“Peter will show me the way.”

Tony watched as they left with Bob and frowned.

“That’s _it_?”

The doctor smiled.

“You expected him to put Peter on his couch and start asking him about his relationship with his mother?”

Tony’s frown turned into a scowl; he supposed that was exactly what he thought was going to happen.

“He barely _said_ anything…”

“Child psychologists do things differently,” Robert told him. “They have to gain the trust of the kids they work with. Peter’s a little older, but it’s the same concept. He’ll be asking him general stuff – show me your room, let’s play games and what are your favorite things… probably the first few sessions will be getting to know you before they really get into anything serious.”

The billionaire rolled his eyes and got to his feet.

“Come on. Let’s go meet them at the car.”

><><><><<<<>> 

“So what do they have you doing around here?”

Peter smiled, looking around his room and realizing that it didn’t look that lived in. Some clothes, the bear Natasha won him in Texas, and the souvenirs the Avengers had brought him when they’d gone on their mission.

“I think I’m the _mascot_ ,” he admitted.

The psychologist laughed, which made Peter blush, slightly.

“Nothing wrong with that, Peter.”

“I live with Tony,” Peter told him. “I’m just out here until I get better. I think we're going home tomorrow.”

“Robert told me about the kidnapping.”

Peter hesitated.

“I wasn’t really kidnapped, though. I mean, I was grabbed, but they weren’t after ransom or anything like that. Tony isn’t my dad. Or my _godfather_.”

Allen nodded, and his look was politely interested.

“No relation at all?”

“No.” Peter smiled, now, inwardly excited to be able to say the next thing. “My parents were SHIELD agents. I didn’t know Tony until he and Happy found me in the alley.”

“SHIELD agents?” Allen echoed. “That explains why they allow you here, as young as you are.”

Peter just shrugged. He was so used to hiding his secret that he wasn’t quite ready to share it, just yet. Not with a stranger – even one that Robert trusted, and who seemed like a pretty nice guy, really.

“They’re nice to me.”

That was an understatement, really.

><><><><>< 

“Well?” Robert looked at Peter, who was standing between him and Tony, watching as the car drove off. “What did you think?”

“He seems nice,” Peter said. He turned to Tony. “What did you think?”

“He seems nice,” the billionaire agreed.

“He’d like to see you, again, Peter. If you’re alright with it.”

“Yeah.” The boy shrugged. “I mean, I’d be okay with talking to him, again.”

Robert nodded, looking pleased.

“I’ll set it up. What are you guys doing the rest of the day?”

“We’re going to be in my workroom.”

Peter’s eyes lit up at the reminder of what they were going to be doing and Robert didn’t miss it. He smiled.

“I’ll see you at lunch?”

“No. Probably not until dinner.”

They’d grab a sandwich or something on their way to the workroom, but Tony knew himself well enough to know that he was going to be distracted by the new armor for the next several hours.

And he was going take Peter with him.

Which was fine with the boy, because he was probably just as excited as Tony was to see what was going to happen, next.


	198. 198

“So… how is this going to work?”

Tony reached for the small box that was the housing unit for the nanites and handed it to Peter. Then he took off his shirt.

“I’m going to put that on my chest. It’s a good spot, right? It’s close to my head, the armor will form over the important – and most _vulnerable_ parts, first, and it’s centralized.”

“Makes sense.” Peter handed the housing back to him, noticing for the first time that the older man was using a kind of glue on the box to apply and hold it to his skin – right over the scars on his chest. “It won’t _hurt_ you, though, right?”

“Shouldn’t hurt, at all, honey,” he assured him. He took a step away from Peter and winked at him, confidently. “FRIDAY? You’re recording?”

_“Of course.”_

“Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.”

Peter watched, though, with a little concern, as Tony tapped the housing unit and suddenly there was activity. A wave of black emerged from the box and seemed to swarm all over him, going around, down and up, until everything but Tony’s head was completely engulfed in the black.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Tony told him, looking down at himself, and holding his hand up to get a better look at what was going on. “That’s amazing.”

“How does it feel?”

“Like I have myself wrapped in tinfoil – only really _sturdy_ tinfoil. Tell me what you think. Touch it.”

Peter tapped his finger against Tony’s forearm.

“It’s solid.”

“Yeah. Feels solid.”

“Can you move in it?”

They spent the next hour running Tony through several different motions with the new armor in place. Both of them were pleased by the results and even FRIDAY sounded smug every time she’d reply to a query from them.

“We still have to integrate everything – and FRIDAY – into the final design,” Tony said, tapping the housing, and watching as the black wave retreated back into the casing. “But this was a great start.”

“Are you going to keep it black, though?” Peter asked.

“No. We’ll work that out, too. We can teach the nanites to change colors to form the patterns I want.”

“Which will mirror the other Ironman suits?”

“Of course.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

Tony nodded his agreement, wincing when he pulled the housing unit from his chest.

“I need to find a good way to keep that on, without losing skin or hair every time I want to take it off. How about you make that your own personal research project?”

“Me? Really?”

“You’re the expert in sticking to things, right?”

Peter smiled, excited.

“Wow.”

“Nothing _permanent_ ,” Tony told him. “No surgeries or anything like that. It has to be removeable. Preferably without too much hassle.”

“I’ll think of something,” Peter promised.

Tony smiled; pleased to see his baby so excited.

“I know you will.” He set the housing unit on the worktable and reclaimed his normal stool. With the initial test done, he had plenty to work on. “There’s no hurry, though.”

Peter smiled, also sitting down – after scooting his stool closer to Tony.

“It looked pretty great…” he said.

Tony gestured toward the housing unit.

“Want to try it?”

Peter felt a thrill go through him, even as he shook his head.

“They’re programed to your shape and size. I don’t want to mess with the specifications. Thank you, though.”

The boy set his hand on Tony’s thigh, idly leaning against him, and looking at the display that the billionaire had brought up when he’d seated himself, and Tony took that to mean that Peter was just interested in watching, for now.

Which was fine.

He slid an arm around him, brushed a kiss against Peter’s temple and started looking through the information that FRIDAY was scrolling onto the screen.

>><><><>< 

“You guys are cutting it pretty close,” Sam said, looking at the two newcomers, even while he was opening the last of the take-out containers. “Any longer, and you’d have probably had to have hamburger helper or something.”

“Where did you guys get takeout around here?” Peter asked, curiously, as he and Tony seated themselves at the table with Romanoff, Steve, Clint and Bruce.

The surface was covered with to go boxes from a restaurant that Peter didn’t think was anywhere nearby. At least, he couldn’t remember seeing any Chinese places in the area.

“You need to think outside the box, Peter,” Clint told him. “When you have friends who can fly, and you want Chinese take-out, you start dropping hints that makes your friend want take-out, too, and then they will fly and get enough for everyone.”

“Especially when they don’t have to _buy_ ,” Sam added, winking at the boy and pushing a plate toward him – and another to Tony, who also sat down. “Eat before it gets cold. No one likes cold Chinese food.”

The others were already starting to make inroads in the large variety of offerings, and Peter found himself noodles, rice and a lot of beef before settling in to eat, famished, despite the fact that he hadn’t really done more than just sit around all day.

The conversation – not surprisingly – was almost immediately tuned into Tony’s new armor and how the trial had gone. As they ate, he told them all about the experiments, the resulting look and what the next step was. They were all interested – even though it was over all of their heads. Their strengths were elsewhere – even Bruce – but it was going to change the way Ironman performed in their team, so they needed to know.

Natasha finally pushed her plate away and opened a fortune cookie.

“Better be a good one, Sam, or you’re going back,” she threatened, as the others were all handed cookies, as well.

Clint glanced at Peter.

“You know the trick to making fortune cookies more interesting, right?”

Tony rolled his eyes, as did Natasha and Steve – clearly they had heard this before. Peter shook his head, though.

“No. What is it?”

“Whatever the fortune is, just as ‘ _in bed_ ’ to the end of it.” He grinned. “For example; Nat? What’s your fortune?”

“ _’Someone is thinking of you_ …’” she read, smirking.

“Perfect.” Clint gestured her direction. “So you mentally add _in bed_ , and it gives it a whole new meaning.”

Peter chuckled, even though he did blush, just a little.

“What’s yours, Steve?”

Captain America frowned, slightly, reading his fortune cookie message, and then shook his head, resigned.

_“You will be invited to an exciting event…”_

Everyone laughed at that, and Rogers rolled his eyes.

“Finish eating, guys. Then we’ll find something better to do than corrupt fortune cookies.”

“Like what?” Sam asked, curiously.

“Cards.”

Clint shook his head.

“Come on; Peter’s a lot better, now. We can do something a little more physical than cards…” he looked at the boy. “Right? You feel okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Tony didn’t look convinced, but before he could say anything to the contrary, Sam make a chucking noise with his tongue.

“How about a _compromise_?”

“ _Physical cards_?” Clint asked, skeptically.

“Spoons…”

Peter smiled.

“Yes.”

Tony frowned.

“Wait a min-“

“Perfect,” Natasha said, standing up. “Let’s clear this mess.”

><><><>< 

It was much later when Robert and Nick walked into the lounge, looking for something to drink and someone to drink it with. Both men frowned when they saw a mad scramble going on at the corner table, and watched as they walked over to join Tony, who was seated at a different table a safe distance away.

Peter was in a chair; holding a spoon. Natasha was sprawled across the table – also holding a spoon, but clearly trying to keep Sam from stealing it from her, while Steve, Clint and Bruce were all on the floor in a dog-pile, obviously wrestling over something they couldn’t see.

“Tell me you’re not letting him play _spoons_ …” Robert said, watching as Sam rolled off the table and landed on the dog-pile.

“I’m not _letting_ him do anything,” Tony pointed out. “He’s playing because he _wants_ to – and he’s fast enough at grabbing spoons that he hasn’t been tackled, yet.”

Fury watched, amused.

“I suppose if he’s well enough for that, then he’s well enough to be considered recovered?”

“He’s having fun,” the billionaire said.  He’d been watching for more than an hour, now, and Peter hadn’t been injured – and couldn’t seem to lose the smile on his face. “Robert can check him out, to make sure he’s healthy. When they’re done.”

With a clean bill of health, Tony could take his baby home.

He had a lot to do, still, with his suit, but he could do that in the apartment or at the tower, and Peter could start getting caught up on the schoolwork he was missing.

Besides, Tony was selfish enough to want Peter to himself for a while.


	199. 199

“We could just go home _tonight_ ,” Peter said, much later.

Tony smiled, and gathered him into his arms, tucking Peter’s head under his chin.

“One more night, baby…” he murmured. “It won’t kill either of us – and if she doesn’t get a chance to say a proper goodbye to you before you leave, _Natasha_ almost certainly will.”

Robert had stuck around the lounge, sitting with Tony and watching as the others finished out their card game with an epic battle royal several hands later that had ended with Clint nursing a cut lip (but holding a spoon, triumphantly) Sam pouting and grumbling about cheaters, Steve putting an icepack on his cheek (but also possessing a spoon) Bruce pretending to go Hulk for Peter’s amusement, and the table in shattered splinters from everyone landing on it after Natasha had reached for the spoons to begin the melee in the first place.

When the mess was cleared, Robert had checked Peter – who was smiling, happily, and still holding his spoon.

“Spider-man is good at spoons,” Tony had said, winking at Peter, whose eyes were practically glowing with the fun that he’d had.

“And he didn’t cheat using the web stuff,” Robert had added. He finished giving Peter his once-over and shrugged. “He’s good, Tony. If he can survive playing Spoons with the Avengers, he’s probably ready to go home, and start his regular routine, once more. Stuff him full every chance you get, and plenty of rest, though. Don’t undo all that we’ve done, here.” The doctor looked at both of them. “Got it?”

“Yes.”

They’d hung out long enough to have a snack – yet another way to get another sandwich into Peter, who rolled his eyes but ate it, even though he wasn’t hungry. Then they’d taken Bob out for his nightly expedition to the field and had ended up in Tony’s quarters.

Peter had sidled up to Tony, arms going around him and hands sliding under the back of his shirt, pointing out that he’d been declared healthy. To the boy’s disappointment, Tony had simply held him close, nuzzled his ear and told him that he had no intention of doing anything too physical that evening, when they could wait until the next day and didn’t have to worry about who might come knocking on the door interrupting them.

He’d stripped Peter, lovingly, down to his boxers and put him to bed, and had followed after changing into simple pajama bottoms. Now they were together, and Tony could feel how eager Peter was to have his attention. The proof was throbbing against his hip – even through the fabric of their clothing.

“Please, daddy,” Peter whispered.

“You’re killing me, baby,” Tony murmured, rolling away long enough to turn off the lamp on the nightstand and then turning back to Peter and sliding his hand down between them. He couldn't say no to him. Not when he used that particular phrasing - and was willing to ask for it. It was an intoxicating combination for Tony. “What do you want daddy to do?”

The boy’s eyes were watching him; he could see in the faint light from the bathroom nightlight. Although they closed for just a moment when Tony’s searching fingers found his swollen cock.

“Everything.”

Tony chuckled, softly, and kissed him.

“Not tonight.” He kissed him, again, softly. In no real hurry. “But I’ll take the edge off for you, honey. Like you did for me. Enough to tide you over until I can get you home and into our bed.”

Without waiting for Peter to reply, Tony rolled him onto his back and moved down on him, brushing kisses in a trail along the boy’s chest, and belly as he did. He shifted, moving between Peter’s legs, and then pulling the front of his boxers down to free him – and still keeping them on enough to make sure Tony didn’t give in to his own desire and nudge himself against Peter’s delicious ass.

“Yes…” Peter’s soft moan in the dark when Tony’s mouth closed over his cock was enough to make the billionaire groan, his own body responding automatically to his baby’s pleasured noises.

Not surprisingly, of course.

Tony chuckled, well aware that he was just as addicted to Peter as the boy was to him, and he went to work on his cock, not only to make his baby happy but to distract himself from the ever-expanding rod of eager flesh in his pajama bottoms.

He felt Peter’s fingers find his hair in the dark, holding him in position, and Tony moved his head enough to engulf Peter’s cock, entirely, deepthroating him and holding in place for a long five count before pulling back and slurping at him.

“Jesus…”

Tony made an approving noise, feeling Peter swelling, further, and beginning to tense, his hips moving almost frantically. He wasn’t surprised that his baby wasn’t going to last too long; they’d been celibate for far too long, and Peter’s libido was a typical teenager’s.

A teen with the full attentions of an experienced lover – and impatient to enjoy those attentions as much as possible.

The boy bit down on his cry of pleasure as he climaxed, his fist coming to his mouth to muffle it further, and his hips pressed up, feeding Tony everything that he was willing to take from him. The billionaire sucked him down, swallowing the warm, slightly bitter, offering, and made approving noises as Peter came down from his orgasm while Tony cleared his cock and then simply rested his cheek on Peter’s pelvis, his lips still close to the base of the boy’s cock.

“You’re so perfect, Peter…” Tony told him, brushing his hand along Peter’s opposite hip. “And you taste amazing.”

Fingers carded through his hair, trembling just a little.

“Daddy…”

They both chuckled; Peter almost giddy with his release, and Tony because even in the darkened room he could see the boy’s reaction to the praise. Or to his proximity.  Or both. Tony kissed the spot beside his penis and then reluctantly shifted, once more, pulling his boxers back up over him and moving to rest his weight on Peter’s slight frame, knowing that Peter liked it, and that it wouldn’t hurt him.

He kissed him, then, gently at first, and then with a little more fervor, but forced himself to pull back when he felt Peter’s hips starting to move, once more.

“Nope…” he whispered, peppering a couple of more kisses against his lower lip and chin before moving off of him, completely. “One is the limit, tonight, little boy. You’re fine, now, for a while.”

“Awww…”

The protest was only half-hearted, and Tony smiled as he rolled off him, reaching for the blankets.

“Go to sleep, baby boy…” he chided, tapping his nose, playfully, and hearing Peter laugh in response. “You’ll have plenty of me this weekend.”

“It’s never enough, though…” Peter told him, tucking himself back up against Tony, and feeling his arms coming around him to hold him.

“I know, honey,” the older man said, sincerely. “I feel the same way.”


	200. 200

Robert was the only one who ate breakfast with them in the lounge the next morning. Peter suspected that the doctor wanted one last chance to make sure that he wasn’t going to fall on his face the moment he was allowed to leave his direct supervision. He felt good, though, and didn’t even need to force the smiles or try to pretend that he didn’t ache.

The others stopped in, briefly, to check on him and say goodbye to him and Tony as they made their way through a large meal of pancakes, sausages and eggs. Peter couldn’t help the way he grinned – probably foolishly – each time one of the Avengers or a SHIELD agent came up to check on him and slap his back, or shoulder, or ruffle his hair.

He really felt like he belonged, and they were doing their best to confirm that.

Peter and Tony had taken Bob out to the field before breakfast and he’d been able to walk at a semblance of his normal pace, without any limp, or _hitch in his giddy up_ , as May used to say. It was cold, and they could see their breath even through the rain that was coming down, which made Tony hover protectively, reminding Peter to put his hood up, even though he already had an umbrella to keep from getting rained on.

“Are you coming out, next weekend?” Robert asked, as they finished eating.

“Depends on how my new suit is coming along,” Tony replied. “I should be ready for another trial, so we’ll probably come – for the day, anyway. Maybe more, if the others are doing anything that might be interesting for Peter, here.”

The boy smiled at that, loving the way Tony always seemed to remember that he was there, too, and might want to be included where he was sure someone might not, normally, be allowed.

Robert looked over at Peter, too.

“You stay out of trouble, young man. Got it?” he asked, fondly. “You’ve official exceeded the limit I set for how many visits per year someone can have to my infirmary.”

Peter smiled at _that_ , too.

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

The doctor’s eyes were warm.

“You’re welcome. Come by, _anytime_. But just for a _visit_.”

“I will.”

He didn’t pack anything, as far as clothes. It wasn’t a bad idea for him to have things to wear at the compound, and he certainly didn’t need any of the clothing he’d obtained during his convalescence at the apartment. He left the radio controlled cars in the lounge – on the off chance the others wanted to play with them while he was gone – and had stacked all the candy from the gift baskets Monica had sent to him on one of the tables for the others to help themselves.

“Ready?” Tony asked, when they’d cleared the dishes.

Peter nodded.

They stopped to pick up Bob’s harness and then headed to the front, where FRIDAY had informed Tony that Happy had arrived and was waiting.

“Hey, Peter, my boy,” the driver said, greeting him, cheerfully. “You look good.”

“Thanks, Happy. You do, too.”

The driver winked at him as he opened the door to usher Bob into the car, but Peter was interrupted by an arm coming around him from behind. He smiled, again, as Natasha pulled him into a warm embrace.

“I’m going to miss being able to see you every day,” the assassin told him as he hugged her back. “You’re good company.”

“Thanks for coming to save me,” Peter whispered.

“I’ll always come to save you,” she assured him.

“Hey, I saved you, too…” Tony reminded him, pretending to be indignant at the super spy taking all the credit for rescuing Peter.

Romanoff chuckled, and retained her hold on Peter for a few more moments.

“You saved _Ned_.”

“And _Peter_ , vicariously…”

“That’s interesting,” came Nick Fury’s deep voice. “Because since I dispatched everyone, that must mean that I’m responsible for saving him… correct?”

They all looked over as the former SHIELD director joined them, offering Peter his hand.

“Hey, Nick.”

“Peter. Stay out of trouble.”

“I will.”

“And keep _Tony_ out of trouble.”

The boy grinned.

“That might be a little harder.”

Tony rolled his eyes, amused, and not at all annoyed at being the butt of their teasing. He’d allow it. He put a hand on Peter’s shoulder to push him, gently, toward the car, and then shook Fury’s hand and smiled, warmly, at Romanoff.

“Bring him out, next weekend, Tony,” Natasha said. “You can work on your suit and Steve and I will give him more hand to hand lessons.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Peter waved once more from the car as Tony got in, and then the door closed and Happy started the engine and they pulled away from the compound. The boy slid into Tony’s lap and rested his head on his shoulder, his arms going around him.

“You okay?” Tony asked, cuddling the boy, caressing his back through the many layers of t-shirt and sweatshirt with light fingers.

“Yeah. I really like them. And not because they’re superheroes, or the Avengers.”

He was long beyond the fanboy stage with most of them.

“I know, honey,” Tony told him, turning his head to brush a kiss against Peter’s nose – which made him smile and lift his head to offer his lips. “They like you, too.”

“Yeah?”

Tony kissed him, softly.

“You doubt it?”

Peter shook his head, pressing his lips against Tony’s jaw.

“No, daddy. It just is unreal, sometimes.”

He chuckled, softly, and shifted a little under Peter, settling in for the long ride, and guiding the boy’s head back down to his shoulder.

“For me, too, baby.” He felt Peter’s body relaxing against his. “Is there anything that you want to do this weekend?”

“Go to the comic store.”

“Anything else?”

“No.” A hand came in between their bodies, and Peter shifted a little, to give himself room to rest his palm on Tony’s groin, which twitched in response, immediately. “Just spend time with you.”

The billionaire carded his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“ _That’s_ going to happen,” he assured him. “But try not to get me too hard, right now, honey,” Tony said. “I promised Monica that we’d stop by and see her when we came home – and I don’t want to be walking funny.”

Peter grinned, but didn’t move his hand. It was a long drive, and he missed playing with Tony.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised, even as he reached for Tony’s zipper.

The older man leaned his head back, and simply closed his eyes, giving himself up to whatever his baby wanted to do to him.

><<<<<<>>>><>> 

“Peter!”

He was engulfed in a hug that was the complete opposite of the embrace Tony had held him in the entire way home, but was just as satisfying in many ways. The boy hugged the old, hard, careful not to hurt her, but definitely making sure she knew just how glad he was to see her.

“Hi, Monica.”

She pulled him – and Tony – into her apartment, c and Tony closed the door once Bob was in, reaching down to rub Boomer’s ears.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, walking them to the sofa, where a tray of coffee and cookies was waiting – although she had cocoa for Peter; he could smell it.

“A lot better. Thanks for the flowers.”

“You _look_ a lot better,” she agreed, gesturing for him to sit down and then waving for Tony to join them, as well. “He’s healthy?” she asked the billionaire.

“Clean bill of health,” Tony confirmed.

“That’s a relief.” She pushed the plate of cookies toward the boy and started pouring coffee for Tony, ever the perfect hostess – even when it was with friends. “And security?” she asked, curiously. “How do we stop it from happening, again?”

“We’re working on it,” Tony assured her, taking his coffee and breathing in the aroma with pleasure. The woman always had good coffee. “The people I consult with weren’t happy that someone abducted and injured one of their own, so they’re taking steps to make sure no one else tries it.”

“The _Avengers_ , you mean?” Monica asked, smiling.

She hadn’t known much about them – even Ironman – before meeting Peter and Tony, but she’d done some homework and had learned a lot from Peter in their many long conversations.

“Them, too,” he agreed. “But I meant _SHIELD_ , really. We didn’t know it, before, but Peter’s parents were SHIELD agents. That makes them a little possessive of him – and protective, now. They’ve already informed me that they’ll be taking over the security on him whenever he’s out of the apartment. Including when he’s walking Bob – and Boomer, for you, when it becomes too cold for you to want to do it, yourself.”

She glanced at Peter, who smiled and nodded.

He was always willing to do anything she needed.

“That’s a relief.” She handed the cookie plate to Tony. “Drink your cocoa, Peter, and tell me what you guys did out at your facility to keep from going stir crazy once you were up out of bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 chapters... !   
> of course, they're aren't incredibly long ones, for the most part - but it's still longer than I initially intended. Hopefully still keeping interest.


	201. 201

They stayed at Monica’s, chatting comfortably until she received a call and had to excuse herself, telling them that she’d buy them lunch next chance they had. They accepted, said their goodbyes and decided to take their lazy dog out for a quick walk before settling in for the afternoon. It had stopped raining, and was simply cold, but the air felt clean and smelled good after the rain, so they weren’t in any hurry.

“Is SHIELD _really_ going to be watching me?” Peter asked as they walked along the sidewalk, Bob stopping occasionally to sniff a tree of hydrant.

As he asked, he was looking around, as if trying to spot anyone.

Tony nodded.

“Nick insisted, and he doesn’t do that often enough that we ignore it when he does. It’s only when you’re outside, though. The building already has SHIELD security – and FRIDAY in the apartment – so you won’t notice a difference.”

“Do you really think it’s necessary? It seems like a lot of extra work for them.”

“I think we need to do whatever it takes to keep you safe,” Tony said, stopping Bob so a little boy could run up and stick his face into the mastiff’s side before his mother could stop him. Once she realized that the dog wasn’t going to eat her child, she apologized, profusely, and was clearly relieved that they seemed more amused than annoyed. “Besides,” Tony added when they had moved on. “SHELD has a lot of people. They can spare a few to keep an eye on things.”

There was a small deli right next to the lobby of the apartment building and Peter waited outside with Bob while Tony went in to buy them some lunch to take home. It’d be faster than making their own – and Tony reminded the boy that they didn’t have anything fresh in the fridge, anyway, after being gone for so long.

“We’ll want to make a run to the grocery store sometime tonight,” he said as they headed for the elevator, loaded with takeout bags.

Since Peter loved to watch Tony shop, he simply nodded his agreement and let the older man exit the elevator, first, when they reached the apartment.

_“Welcome home, Peter.”_

The boy smiled.

“Thanks, FRIDAY. I’m glad to be back.”

He was, too. He looked around as he took Bob’s harness off, and felt a surge of happiness well up inside him. Yes, he liked being at the Avenger compound – and loved the people there – but this was his home, really. His place where he could relax, fully, just him and Tony. And Bob, of course. It was his own little sanctuary, protected as he was by FRIDAY’s amazing security protocols and Tony Stark, who wouldn’t let anyone close to him that he didn’t already trust.

“What are you thinking?” Tony asked, having set their lunch on the coffee table and walking over.

Peter shrugged, flushing, slightly.

“I was just thinking how happy I am to be here. With you.”

The billionaire’s eyes were soft, melted chocolate and filled with love.

“I am too, honey,” he said, gathering Peter into his arms and hugging him close for a long moment, before pressing a kiss against his temple and letting him go. “Our soup’s going to get cold. Come eat, okay?”

The boy nodded and joined him on the sofa, watching as Bob settled himself in his bed and promptly fell asleep. Tony opened soup and unwrapped sandwiches and chips and salads, while Peter got up and went to get real cutlery instead of the plastic spoons and forks, and some napkins.

“Are you warm enough?” Tony asked, when he sat back down.

“Yes.” To prove it, he pulled his sweatshirt off, although he shivered just a little at the loss of the extra layer. The soup would warm him, nicely, as well as the grilled sandwiches that Tony’s had chosen. “You?”

Tony smiled; he didn’t have trouble regulating his body temperature like Peter seemed to – and he wasn’t underweight.

“I’m fine, honey.”

They discussed a shopping list as they ate, and Tony asked Peter what he wanted to have for dinner the next few days, knowing that FRIDAY would make a list for him as they talked. The boy had mentioned dumplings, once before, so when he mentioned that they might be able to find something frozen like chicken and dumplings, Tony rolled his eyes, good-naturedly, and reminded him that homemade was much better than frozen, and he’d whip some up for their dinner the next night. Once they went to the store to get some fresh chicken.

Peter finished eating first, but waited patiently for Tony to finish his coffee before he finally climbed into his lap, cuddling close with a soft sigh.

“Are you alright?” Tony asked, leaning back against the leather sofa and taking Peter’s compliant body with him, and draping the blanket that was always on the back of the couch over the boy.

“Yes.”

“Tired?”

“No.”

He sounded tired, though, Tony decided. The billionaire slid his hands under the back of Peter’s shirt, feeling the boy shiver at his touch.

“We’ll just relax for a while, okay, baby?” he murmured. “We have all weekend to be together, and there’s no hurry, right?”

Peter nodded and turned his head and kissed Tony’s jaw.

“Right.”

When his lips made their way along his jawline, though, it was Tony who found himself shivering at the touch, and he tilted his head to allow Peter better access to the delicate skin there.

“That feels good, honey.”

“Yeah?”

Peter continued what he was doing, running lips – and occasionally his tongue – along Tony’s neck, and then his cheek, until he moved a little so he could kiss him fully on the lips, his tongue brushing against Tony’s lower lip, gently asking for access.

Tony sighed into the kiss and his hands cupped Peter’s ass through his jeans, feeling a surge of desire go through him at the simple lip-lock. Peter must have realized what he was doing, because his lips pulled slightly when he smiled, and he deepened the kiss for a long, wonderful moment, before pulling back to look at Tony.

“My hickey faded, daddy…” he said, softly, his brown eyes feigning distress. “Will you give me a new one?”

Tony snorted, softly; the hickey had been covered with the bruises and welts and he was glad it was gone, but the thought of undressing Peter and running his mouth along that delicious body as he chose the perfect place to put the next one made his cock twitch between them, and he pulled Peter’s shirt off with an easy, single, motion.

“I could do that,” he assured him, leaning down and kissing Peter’s neck, and then his shoulder, moving toward his nipple, which he suckled for a moment before turning his attention to the other, enjoying the way it made his baby shiver. “Not here…” Tony said, finally, his hand reaching between them for the button on Peter’s jeans. “I’m thinking somewhere much lower.”

Peter chuckled, breathlessly, and got up long enough for Tony to help him get undressed before he reclaimed his spot on the older man’s lap, his cock starting to swell, delightfully, against the fabric of Tony’s slacks. He kissed him again and made a pleased noise when Tony’s hand found his rear.

“Please, daddy…”

The sound was so loving, the words so seductive.

Tony groaned, and squeezed Peter’s ass cheek.

“What do you want, baby boy?” he asked, his voice husky with his own desire. “What can daddy do to make you cry happy tears?”

Peter rutted himself against Tony’s shirt, looking down between them before bringing both arms around Tony’s neck for support and tucking his head against the side of Tony’s.

“I don’t… anything, daddy. Just make me feel good. Please…”

It wasn’t that he couldn’t say it, Tony recognized, clutching at Peter’s hips to steady him while he ground himself against his belly, his cock hard and drooling precum with each motion. He was just so anxious that he wasn’t sure what would feel the best – and was giving himself over to Tony to let him choose.

Which was fine.

“Daddy’s going to suck you, honey,” he said, finally, his mouth watering at the thought of Peter’s cock being shoved down his throat. “We’ll take the edge off for you, and then you can tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Yes. Please?”

Peter closed his eyes, and Tony moved him, shifting him until he was laying on the sofa, now, legs parting to give his daddy access to him. Tony covered him, admiring the view as he always did, before he kissed him, and began working his way lower, enjoying the way Peter responded to his touch.

“So pretty,” he murmured, kissing his ribs. “So wonderful.”

The boy groaned, and arched against him.

“ _Daddy_ …”

Tony chuckled, realizing that this wasn’t going to be drawn out and the boy didn’t need the praise to make him more aroused. It didn’t mean that it wasn’t _true_ , of course, because Tony _did_ think Peter was wonderful, _and_ pretty, but he wasn’t going to have a chance to taste him, if he wasn’t careful. He moved down, lower, and licked the head of Peter’s already quivering cock.

“So delicious…”

and Peter moaned as he finally took him into his mouth.


	202. 202

“Do you think it’s safe to leave him alone…?”

Peter hesitated, looking over at Bob, who was watching the two of them watching him.

“I don’t know, daddy. He hasn’t chewed on anything, yet.”

“We haven’t left him alone, yet, either.”

It wasn’t going to be for too long; they were just going to the store. But they really needed to go to the store, or they were going to be eating take out all weekend.

Peter smiled, stretching, languidly. He and Tony had fooled around on the sofa for a while – much to Peter’s satisfaction – and then Tony had taken the boy into their bedroom and had thoroughly made love to him. He’d put Peter on his belly, and feasted on his ass, playing with him, stretching him and eating him out until Peter was writhing under him.

Then he’d taken him.

Slowly at first, pressing his cock into Peter in the most delightfully lazy motion, until he was hilted inside him, his claim once more staked on his baby, who was arching eagerly back against him, moaning in pleasure and begging daddy for more. Which he’d given him; his pace increasing until they were both in rhythm and slamming together as Tony drove him into the mattress deeper and deeper until he finally groaned and emptied himself into the boy.

It had been amazing, as it always was, as far as Peter was concerned. Tony had covered them, then, making sure Peter was warm and tucked up against him and they’d napped for a couple of hours, waking in each others’ arms and smiling to find themselves there.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out how he’ll do,” Tony said, finally, shrugging. “We’re going to have to try it, eventually.”

Which was true. The mastiff had his giant chew bone, a couple of chewy squeaky toys. He should have plenty to keep him occupied while they went to the store. Just to be safe, though, they made sure that anything they absolutely didn’t want chewed on went on the top shelves in the closets or in the bathrooms behind closed doors.

Places the dog couldn’t reach.

Then they’d put on jackets (and a sweatshirt under Peter’s) and had headed for the elevator – with Tony reminding FRIDAY to speak up if the dog looked like he was getting himself into mischief.

The AI had simply given them a verbal sound of agreement and they’d left.

><><><<><>>< 

When they returned almost two hours later, loaded down with shopping bags and almost expecting the worst, they were pleased to find the dog asleep in his bed and no messes strewn about the place. From the looks of it, Bob had probably slept the entire time they’d been gone.

He woke when they returned, and got up to follow them into the kitchen, begging for attention and probably curious what was in the grocery bags that smelled so appealing. Peter fished him out a couple of treats, making a big fuss over him and loving up on him to distract him while Tony put the groceries away.

“He needs a final walk,” the older man said when he finally finished what he was doing.

“I can take him.”

Tony hesitated. Not only automatically concerned about a repeat of the abduction thing – which was always going to be in the back of his mind, he knew – but also because the rain had returned while they’d been out, and it was cold and wet.

Peter caught the hesitation and understood what was causing it, and was quick to reassure.

“There’s SHIELD guys watching, right?”

“Well, yeah… but I can still go with you.”

Peter was only safe with him, Tony had decided. Yeah, maybe it was the daddy thing going crazy inside him, but the wound was still new and fresh. When Peter pressed himself into Tony’s bubble, the man was quick to bring his arms around him and hold him, close.

“I’ll be fine, daddy,” the boy murmured. “I won’t be long. I’ll bundle up and keep my hood up, and I won’t stop to talk to anyone I don’t know. If I go, then you can start dinner.”

“Yeah, but…”

“I’m pretty hungry.”

Tony rolled his eyes, well aware that the boy was using the passive aggressive argument to get him to allow him to go out, and he decided to allow it.

“Don’t be too long. I don’t want Bob to be too wet. Or _you_ , of course.”

“Around the block.”

Besides, the forecast was saying that there was going to be a thunder storm, and Peter didn’t want to be out in that, if he could avoid it.

Tony watched as Peter harnessed the dog, put his hood back up and disappeared into the elevator. Then the billionaire went into the bathroom to grab a couple of towels, knowing they were going to need them for Bob, no matter how short the walk.

“FRIDAY? Order a super-sized dog raincoat, will you?”

Winter brought a lot of rain (and some snow) to New York, and they were going to run out of towels just trying to keep Bob dry if they didn’t do something proactive. He set the towels down on the small table that guarded the entrance to the room and then went into the kitchen to start dinner.

But he (and FRIDAY) were both watching for their return, and he was honest enough to admit – to himself, at least – that he didn’t breathe easily until the elevator opened and they walked in.

“How did it go?” he asked, watching as Peter shed his SHIELD jacket but retained his sweatshirt, and started drying Bob.

He smiled over at Tony, but the pots on the stove told him why his daddy wasn’t right there, hovering protectively over him.

“It’s wet outside,” Peter said, rubbing Bob down, quickly but thoroughly. “And I think I saw some lightning, but it could have just been flickering streetlights.”

“We’ll have a good view of the storm,” Tony promised him, gesturing with the spoon in his hand toward the balcony door.

They wouldn’t go outside, obviously, but their building was high enough that the view was amazing when a good thunderstorm came rolling in. Peter walked over, looking in the pots with interest as he settled on a stool on the other side of the island, across from Tony – who noticed that his sweatshirt was damp.

“Smells good.”

“No one bothered you?” Tony asked, stirring the sauce he was making.

“There aren’t too many people out, right now. It’s coming down pretty good.”

“I can see that.” He put a lid on the saucepan and moved to stand beside Peter, who leaned into him, easily. Tony ran hi hands under the boy’s sweatshirt, caressing the bare skin there while nuzzling at Peter’s ear – enjoying the way he shivered at the touch. “You should go change, honey. I don’t want you running around in wet clothes.”

His jeans were showing signs of the rainstorm as well.

Peter nodded and pulled back, but he didn’t get up, right away. Instead, he lifted the hem of Tony’s shirt, smiling when he exposed the small bruise on the older man’s lower abdomen – a hickey that Peter had left on his daddy, earlier, during their loving. Tony watched, silently, while the boy leaned down and kissed the mark, lovingly, and then smiled up at him.

“I’ll be right back.”

Tony’s fingers brushed Peter’s cheek.

“You’re _amazing_. You know that, right?”

Which made the boy blush, and he left the kitchen feeling like he really _was_ amazing.

><><><><> 

“I’m glad I’m not out in that…” Peter said, much later.

Tony nodded his agreement, looking out the sliding door at the thunderstorm crashing down on the city around them. After they’d eaten, Tony had changed into sweats and a t-shirt and they’d moved the sofa into the kitchen area, placing it in front of the entrance to the balcony to allow them a great view of the incoming storm without actually forcing them to go outside.

 It was a doozy, too; lightning streaking through the sky, followed by loud booming thunder that had brought Bob out of his bed to join them on the sofa. Since Peter was in Tony’s lap, there was plenty of room for the mastiff, to cuddle with them.

“I agree,” Tony said, watching as the heavy clouds were suddenly lit up from within by more lightning that wasn’t, itself, seen by them. “You wouldn’t have been, though, right?” he asked. “You’d have holed yourself up in the library?”

“Yes.” His grip tightened on Tony, just a little, as if to remind himself that he wasn’t alone, anymore. “Not as good a view, but I’d have been dry.”

Tony made sure the blanket over Peter’s shoulders was still firmly there, and he pulled Peter’s head to his shoulder, kissing his temple, reassuringly. They were in no hurry to go to bed, having had a good nap, earlier, and he wasn’t in any hurry to move from where he was, just then.

_He_ wasn’t alone anymore, either.

“Have I told you, yet, this evening, that I love you, and that I’m glad you’re with me?”

He didn’t see the smile, but he heard the pleased noise Peter made, and felt the boy’s lips brush the tender skin of his neck.

“I love you, too, Tony,” he whispered.

Then they both turned to watch as another bolt of lightning shot across the sky and Bob’s cold nose pressed between them, shoving its way under the blanket, as he sought his own attention. Attention both were willing to give.

They were enjoying the storm; Bob not as much.


	203. 203

“What are you going to do today?”

“ _You_.”

Peter snorted, almost choking on his pancakes and glad he hadn’t been taking a drink of anything, or Tony would have been wearing it.

“You already did that,” he pointed out, his eyes watering with amusement at the quip – and the thought of spitting orange juice all over his daddy.

They’d fallen asleep on the couch, watching the storm until the wee hours of the night, and Peter had been the one to wake Tony much later, still in his lap but aching to be loved by him. Soft, feathery, kisses and a tongue gently tracing the delicate parts of his ear had woken Tony in the best of ways, and he’d found himself the object of Peter’s amorous attentions.

The boy had simply worked his way down from that tingling ear, along his chest and had scooted out of his lap in order to taste the skin of Tony’s belly before his hands and mouth found the older man’s already interested penis. Tony had groaned when Peter started in on him, and the sound had been long and drawn out when the boy proved to him that he now had the whole deepthroating thing down pat. He had Tony down his throat for a few moments before he was forced to pull back, and Tony absently told himself that now that Peter could do it, he’d have to teach his baby what to do with it once it was there.

Later, though.

Instead, he’d finally pulled away and turned the tables on the boy, trading places with him and feasting on him until Peter was writhing in all the best ways. As he sucked him, he played with his ass, preparing him and exciting him, until Peter was making soft noises of pleasure that made Tony ache for him. He finished Peter off with a few of the tricks that he was going to eventually teach him, and while the boy was still coming down from his climax, Tony bent him over the back of the couch and worked himself into that wonderfully tight ass, driving home with more and more need, while Peter moaned and begged under him, working his daddy into a frenzy that finished in the only way that it could.

Tony unloaded into Peter, and held him for a long time, his hips idly trying to get him deeper, while Tony was actually softening and losing his place inside the boy. He finally pulled out completely and turned Peter in his arms so that the boy could once more straddle his lap and cuddle until they’d dozed off, once more, with the sky outside the balcony door starting to lighten.

><><><

“I’m going to go over some of the data from the nano trials,” Tony told Peter, handing him a napkin to wipe his eyes and smiling, pleased that he’d amused him so thoroughly. His baby didn’t smile as much as Tony wanted him to. “You?”

“I want to go to the comic store today. Ned said that his mom wants to see me – he said she was going to poke me and make sure I was really okay – and I want to get out for a while.”

“Want me to go with you?”

Peter smiled at him over his orange juice.

“You’d rather go to the comic store and look at Ironman action figures than work on your new suit?”

“I’d rather spend time with you than do anything.”

Which made the boy flush with pleasure, because he knew it was true. He could see the truth in Tony’s expressive eyes.

“You’d probably be done with that suit by now, if I wasn’t always hovering, asking you what you were doing, or distracting you.”

Tony nodded the truth of that, but he also shrugged.

“And I’d have a very cool new suit,” he said. “But I’d be lonely and sad. This way I have the best of all worlds; you, the suit, and a _dog_. It’s better this way Better for me, anyway.”

“It’s better for _me_ , too,” Peter told him.

“You go to the comic store,” Tony told him. “I will stay home and work on my suit.”

“Do you want me to take Bob?”

“And leave me _all_ alone?” Tony winked, still in a very good mood. “No. The comic store will be better off not having dogzilla in there – especially with the added business they get, now. I’ll keep him with me, and we’ll come and meet you around lunch time and go find something to eat. How does that sound?”

“You won’t get wrapped up in what you’re doing and forget?”

How well the boy knew him, Tony thought, smiling.

“FRIDAY? If I’m not heading out the door with Bob at 11:55, give me a nudge, will you?”

_“An_ electrical _nudge?”_ came the AI’s reply.

Peter smirked, while Tony rolled his eyes.

“No. Just remind me that Peter’s waiting. That’s all I’ll need to hear.”

_“Got it.”_

It might have been the boy’s imagination, but the AI sounded almost disappointed.

He snorted, amused, and turned his attention back to his breakfast.

><><><><><> 

Ned looked surprised when he saw Peter walk through the door of the comic store an hour or so later.

“Peter. Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Where’s Tony?” he asked, looking behind his friend, as if expecting the older man to be skulking in the background.

“He’s home, working on the new suit.”

“He let you come alone?”

Peter nodded, and then titled his head and shrugged.

“I think he didn’t want to,” he conceded. “But he gave me a lecture about keeping myself safe, and reminded me not to go with anyone I didn’t know.”

Which made both boys roll their eyes. That wasn’t something they needed to be taught. Both had had parents teach them that when they’d been much, much, younger.

“I’m still kind of surprised that he let you come _alone_ ,” Ned admitted as they walked through the somewhat cluttered store.

“There’s a SHIELD guy watching me all the time, now,” Peter told him. “Tony told me that Nick insisted.”

Ned looked a little relieved. And a _lot_ excited.

“Wow. That’s awesome. Did he give you a codename? Like they do with the president and the secret service?”

“I’m _protégé_ ,” Peter told him, grinning at his friend’s excitement. “Natasha told me they already had one for me – even before we got grabbed. Want to hear Tony’s?”

“What is it?” Ned asked, curiously. “Awesome sauce? Cool cucumber?”

“ _PITA_.”

The other boy snorted, and Peter suddenly found himself engulfed in the attentions of Ned’s mother and father, who were both clearly relieved to see him up and about and looking none the worse for his ordeal. They dragged him up the stairs to their apartment and plied him with fresh rolls that his dad had just pulled out of the oven, while double-checking that he was really alright, and Tony was, too.

><><><><> 

It was almost an hour before Peter and Ned were back down in the store, and now Ned gave his friend a slightly mysterious look.

“Want to see the newest thing we got in – just yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

They went behind the counter, and Ned pulled out a box and then took Peter back into the privacy of the little store room – not much bigger than a very large closet, and jammed with all sorts of items.

“Check it out.” Ned pulled out a small figurine and handed it to Peter. “Pretty cool, huh?”

The boy couldn’t help the surprise in his expression when he found himself holding a little Spider-man action figure. The suit wasn’t quite as terrible as his very first attempt and wasn’t as amazing as the newest one, but there was definitely a spider on the chest, and it was the right colors and everything. He stared at it for a long time.

“Where did you get this?”

“One of our local guys. Spider-man’s becoming more and more interesting – even though no one’s seen him around, now, for a while. The fact that he was seen working with Ironman give him the Avenger tie-in that will make these sell like crazy. We have the first edition of them – but there’ll be a lot more, I bet. Mom says he’ll make a killing for us.”

Peter hesitated, handing it back to Ned – who held up his hand.

“Keep it. It’s appropriate, and all. Right? You being him, I mean.”

It was the last thing that he’d expected to hear. Peter was planning how to tell Ned his biggest secret (unless one counted the fact that he liked being under Tony Stark naked) and here Ned was pretty much telling him that he already knew.

“How… what?”

Ned grinned, clearly pleased with himself. When he spoke, next, it was just above a whisper.

“The guy that grabbed us called you Spider-man, Peter,” he reminded his friend. “You were pretty out of it, but if he’d been lying – or wrong – you would have said something, I bet. Besides, once you think about it and see you and Tony together, it isn’t that much of a stretch to make, really.”

“Do your _parents_ know?”

“No. I didn’t tell them. Tony knows, though, right?” Ned’s expression was excited, now. “He’s helping you? Because your parents were spies? So he made you the tech that lets you stick to walls and swing through the sky?”

“No. I mean, yeah. Some of that – but not all. You can’t tell anyone, Ned. Please? It’s-“

“I haven’t _yet_ , have I?” his friend interrupted. “And it’s _killing_ me. _Seriously_. I know two superheroes! More, if you count that I met the other Avengers. How do you do it?”

Peter couldn’t help but smile at Ned’s enthusiasm – and his excitement. No one was ever so excited by anything that he did. At least, not until lately – after he’d met Tony and the others. And even then, they were a lot more reserved than Ned was.

“I’ll tell you later,” he promised. “But for now, just keep it between us. Okay?”

“Yeah. Sure.” They heard someone coming, and Ned picked up the box, once more. “Come on, Peter,” he said. “You can help me decide where to put the display.”

Peter shook his head, wondering what Tony was going to say when he heard.


	204. 204

Peter didn’t notice when Tony arrived. Ned’s mom had put him to work – along with her son – carrying boxes from the little storeroom and stacking them in corners to replenish the stock that was being sold that morning. The store was busy, but not crazy, and Peter was having a good time helping out. Besides, he was nerd enough that he was really enjoying having a chance to play with all of the merchandise.

He was trying to decide just how high he could stack a display box when he heard one of the customers gasp.

“There’s _Tony Stark_ …”

It made everyone in the little store turn to see – Peter included – and he saw that the billionaire was standing right outside the door, Bob at his side, looking impossibly large. Tony was wearing a suit, instead of the jeans that he’d been in that morning when Peter left the apartment, and Peter knew that was because he’d anticipated meeting a lot of fans at the store, and wanted to look the part for them.

Besides, if they got used to seeing him in jeans, he couldn’t hide from them when he didn’t want to be noticed.

Ned waved Tony in, cheerfully, and not bothering to hide his excitement that he was on first name basis with Ironman. Tony walked in, smiling at the customers, who were staring at him with varying degrees of excitement, hero worship and shock, and he walked up to the counter, Bob still walking next to him.

“What’s going on, Ned?” he asked the boy, casually.

“Emptying the storeroom for mom,” Ned replied, rolling his eyes and massaging his shoulder, woefully, even though he was hardly being beaten down and trod on that morning. “You?”

“Came to see if my favorite comic store had anything new and interesting.”

He made sure to say it loud enough that the people who now had their phones out and were taking video or photos of him could hear it. They all knew that there would be a spike in business, once more, because of it.

“We do,” Ned told him, grinning, and turning toward the display that he and Peter had set up. “Just in today…”

Peter was watching from the corner as Tony studied the new display. It was a combination of the new Spider-man figures and liberally interspersed with Ironman ones, as well, both posed heroically and doing battle together against a few evil villains – including Voldemort and Darth Vader.

There was just the briefest moment of surprise in Tony’s expressive eyes, and then he smiled.

“Voldemort? _Really_?”

Ned shrugged.

“Mom wants them to sell out. We ordered too many.”

“I’ll take one of them, three of this handsome Ironman guy and a few of this spider guy I hear so much about.”

Ned found the appropriate boxes and carried them to the counter, and Tony looked over at Peter, winking, but not approaching him, just then. Instead, he moved to the counter, as well, and started greeting the customers, smiling, shaking hands and putting his head near theirs so they could take selfies.

“We should pay him a fee,” Ned’s mom said, coming to stand beside Peter – out of the way. “He is _very_ good for business.”

Peter smiled at her.

“He should be paying _you_ ,” he told her. “You give him a place to go to meet his fans and not get trampled.”

It was obvious that Tony was having a good time. He didn’t rush any of the conversations, even though they were all kept short by necessity, and he was charming to everyone, asking what they were buying, and then signing their purchases when they started buying up Ironman comics, figurines and anything else red and gold that they could get their hands on.

Eventually he excused himself, citing the need to make his own purchase and holding up the Voldemort action figure that he was buying, bragging about how it was going to go into his own personal collection. A collection that Peter knew didn’t actually exist. He paid for his stuff and Ned bagged it up, joined by his mother and the part time employee – who were needed to start ringing all of the purchases everyone else was making.

“Need anything, Ned?” Tony asked the boy, well aware of the thrill he was giving Ned calling him by name.

“No, Tony. I’m good.”

“Come over next weekend – if mom allows it.”

“Thanks.”

Tony walked by Peter, heading for the back exit that led to the alley, even though he stopped before the door, waiting with Bob until Peter said his goodbyes to Ned and his mom and coming to join him, closing the door to the store behind him.

“Hi, daddy…” Peter whispered, taking Bob’s leash, but not touching Tony, even though he wanted to.

“Hey, baby. Did you have a good morning?”

“Yeah.” They headed out the door and into the alley, moving away from the street the comic store faced and heading toward a less populated one – and avoiding walking by the store and maybe catching the eye of fans who might be interested in following Tony. “Did _you_?”

“I did. The nanites are being good.”

Peter smiled at that.

“You saw the display…?”

“A very good likeness.” Peter was surprised that Tony looked more pleased than anything. He’d expected him to be a little cautious about anything that might draw attention to Peter – even though no one knew who Spider-man really was. At least, not many people did. “What did you think?”

“It’s a little exciting.”

Which made Tony smile.

“A _lot_ exciting,” he corrected. “I remember when I saw my first Ironman action figure.”

“What did you do?”

“Bought them out. I still have them, somewhere, at the tower. Unless Pepper had them tossed.”

“Ned knows who I am…” Peter said, the words popping out before he could stop them – or consider the fact that they were out in public and it wasn't a conversation they should have, just then.

Tony frowned, looking over at him.

“He _does_? Did you tell him?”

He didn’t seem concerned about where they were. They weren’t being too specific, after all.

“No. He told me. I guess the guy that grabbed us called me… _you know_ … and Ned heard it. I don’t remember any of that.”

Tony walked in silence for a block or so, and then shrugged.

“I assume he isn’t going to tell anyone – or he would have, already.”

“He said he wasn't.”

“And _you_ were going to tell him, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then no harm, no foul. It doesn’t change what we do.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No. If you want to keep your identity a secret, we still do. If you decide to come out – so to speak – then we can do that. No pressure, either way.”

“You’re not worried about people knowing who I am?”

“No. For one thing – and Natasha and Nick both agree – if people associate him with the Avengers, they’re not going to think he’s an easy target and make any more tries at you. For another, it’ll make the fact that we’re together all the time even more plausible.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. Who better to mentor a fledgling superhero than _Ironman_ , right?”

They’d had that particular conversation when they’d first met, Peter remembered – and it rang a lot truer, now, than before, even. Especially considering how far they’d come since then, and how close they’d grown.

“Right.”

Tony put a hand, companionably, on Peter’s shoulder as they walked.

“Let’s get some lunch, Peter,” he suggested. “Then we’ll enjoy the nice weather for a while, look around a bit and then go home and play with my new action figures.”

Which made the boy smile.

“Alright.”


	205. 205

“You will never defeat me, Spider-man… I am too powerful for you.”

The figure was standing tall, not at all afraid.

“Yeah? You're sadly mistaken, Tom Riddle. I-“

“Don’t call me that, you stupid muggle.”

“Not as stupid as someone making conversation in the middle of a battle you dumb wizard…”

“What do-“

“Haha!” Whap! With the sound of thrusters echoing all around him, Ironman crashed into the evil wizard. “Caught you when you weren’t looking, didn’t I, you little bast-“

_“Pepper Potts is at the entrance.”_

Tony and Peter both looked up, each startled by the announcement, even though it wasn't unexpected. Tony grinned, setting down the Ironman and Spider-man action figures he’d been holding.

“She’s here,” he said, unnecessarily. “Last chance to change your mind.”

Peter set down the Voldemort action figure and shook his head, standing up from where he’d been sitting on the floor next to the coffee table, having freed the sofa for Tony.

“No. I think it’s for the best. Don’t you?”

Tony nodded.

“As long as _you’re_ comfortable with it. Let her up, FRIDAY.”

Peter and Tony were both standing by the sofa when Pepper walked into the living room, and Peter offered to take the light jacket she was wearing.

“What’s going on, Tony?” she asked, curiously. “Is this about Peter’s bank account? It could have waited until Monday.”

“No. It’s not about – what _about_ his bank account?”

She raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Neither of you noticed the considerable deposit made into it, yesterday?”

Peter shook his head, pulling his phone out, curiously, and bringing up the app for his bank, and then dropped the phone as if burned by it.

He blushed, and picked it up, his eyes wide as he looked at her. Tony snapped his fingers to get his attention and gestured for him to hand him the phone. It wasn't easy to surprise Tony Stark, but his eyes were as shocked as Peter’s.

“Two and a half _million_?” he said. “Where did that come from?”

“Survivor benefits from Peter’s parents,” she said, smugly, looking at both of them. “Complete with all interest that would have been due from investing it – particularly in SI stocks and government bonds.”

“Wow.”

“It’s what you _should_ have been allotted when you were younger,” Pepper told Peter. “As a minor, it would have been placed in a trust for you. Since it’s _SHIELD_ , it would have been overseen by ways and means and I made sure to remind the accountants of that when I went digging.”

Tony smiled.

“I’m impressed, Pepper.”

“Just looking out for him,” she said, modestly, smiling at Peter. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Then she looked at Tony. “If it wasn't about his bank account, what _did_ you ask me to come over for?”

“Peter and I are planning on making an announcement, and it’s probably going to make some ripples in my direction.”

She frowned.

“You’re _not_ his godfather, are you? Because I’ve been fielding those stupid rumors for weeks, now, and I’m going to look like a horse’s ass if I have to admit that-“

“I’m not his _godfather_ ,” Tony interrupted, amused.

Looking ridiculous was the worst thing, ever, as far as she was concerned – and he knew it.

“Then what?”

The billionaire looked over at Peter.

“You tell her.”

The boy hesitated, mouth suddenly dry and his face pale.

“I’m… um… I’m _Spider-man_.”

Pepper frowned.

“Who?”

Tony snorted, amused.

><><><><> 

Pepper looked from the monitor over to Peter, who was sitting on the arm of the sofa watching her while she was watching the YouTube videos that showed Spider-man in his old costume, stopping a speeding truck from hitting a van, swinging into action to save a little girl from being hit by a car and finally flinging himself off a building to pull several people from a failing fire escape.

“That’s _you_?”

“You need to be more connected with the people, Pepper,” Tony chided, good-naturedly. “Spider-man has been put saving the little guys in Queens for months, now. He even has a small fanbase, now,” he added, holding up the little action figure that they’d been playing with when she’d arrived.

“How do you do it?” she asked. “Tech?”

“No. I mean, yes, _now_. Some of it. I have web fluid that shoots from devices I have on my wrists.”

“Tony made them?”

“ _This_ incarnation, yes,” the billionaire. “The ones you’re seeing in the videos? He made _them_ himself.”

She nodded, looking at the two of them, and taking the Spider-man action figure from Tony.

“So you’re planning on outing him?” she guessed. “Letting the world know?”

“We think it would make things safer for Peter if people understood what he was capable of – and who he was hanging out with.”

“That's a fair assumption.” She frowned. “Is that the reason he was grabbed, then?” she guessed. “Someone found out?”

“It wasn't a kidnapping for ransom,” Tony confirmed. “I just thought it was only fair to give you the heads-up. And maybe see if you’d be willing to set up the press conference.”

“I could do that.” She looked at the action figure she was holding, clearly thinking, for a few long moments, and then looked at them. “Want a suggestion?”

“Of course.”

Peter nodded, too.

“Considering that _I_ didn’t have a clue who Spider-man is, you might want to have him make a few appearances – this weekend, and next week – _before_ you make your announcement. Get him out of Queens and into the other boroughs so there is some visibility. It’ll make more of an impression when you make your announcement.”

Tony looked at Peter and then back at her.

“Good suggestion. We could do that.”

“Passive campaign of recognition, then,” she said. “We’ll set the press conference for next Monday to give it a chance to work. Might as well make the biggest ripples we can if you’re going to throw the rock into the pond.”

“Sounds right to me,” the billionaire agreed. Of course, he knew she was a genius when dealing with the press and making someone look good. She’d been doing it for him for years, after all. “With Ironman? Or without?”

“Without. We need to establish him as a superhero in his own right – outside of Queens.” She levered a look at Tony. “That doesn’t mean we _create_ catastrophes for him to solve,” she warned him.

Tony rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m just saying…”

“Got it. Thank you.”

Pepper smiled, looking at Peter.

“Be careful, alright? I do not want to hear that you were hurt doing something that gets you in over your head.”

Touched by her concern, he nodded.

“I’ll be careful.”

“I could still keep an eye on him, right?” Tony asked.

“Yes. Out of sight, though.”

“Right.”

She stood, then, looking at them both.

“Anything else I need to know about?”

They shook their heads.

“Stay for dinner?” Tony invited.

“Thank you, but no. I have a date.”

“Have fun.”

She smirked, and held up the Spider-man action figure.

“I’m _keeping_ this.”

Tony scowled, but Peter smiled and nodded.

“Go ahead.”

She left, then, after scratching Bob’s ears for a few minutes and Tony sat down on the sofa, once more.

“You gave her my action figure.”

Peter smiled, and climbed into his lap, straddling his hips and cuddling close so he could put his head on Tony’s shoulder.

“Apparently I’m _rich_ , daddy,” he told him. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

Tony chuckled, and put his arms around Peter, sliding his hands along the boy’s torso under his shirt, rubbing his back, lovingly.

“I’m going to hold you to that, honey.”

“I just want you to hold me,” Peter said, softly. “Please?”

He’d had a long day, after all, and a scary one – telling people his secret was harrowing. And somewhat tiring.

Tony made a soft noise, turning his head and kissing Peter.

“Of course.” He smiled, brushing his fingers against his baby’s cheek. “We’ll relax for a while – and after dinner Spider-man can go out and let people see him. Yeah?”

Peter smiled.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing _dangerous_ , though.”

 


	206. 206

Bruce looked up from his display and smiled when Peter walked into the lab Monday afternoon.

“Hey, Peter, looking good buddy.”

The boy’s echoing smile was cheerful, and his eyes gleamed with good health and happiness as he reached for his lab coat and put it on over the sweatshirt that he was wearing.

“Thanks, Bruce. How are you doing?”

“Great.”

Peter walked over to the display and his smile broadened, just a little, when he saw the Spider-man action figure sitting on the top of the microscope stand. Right beside an Incredible Hulk one. He didn’t mention it, but it made him feel just a little shiver of happiness.

“What are you working on?”

“Bacterial decay.” Bruce looked back over at him, abandoning his display for the moment. “I was wondering if you were going to come in, today.”

“It’s Monday.”

“But you’re rich, now,” the scientist pointed out. “You don’t really need to work, anymore.”

Peter blushed.

“Yeah. No, I mean, I know.” He’d looked at the phone app just that morning, as if to prove that it hadn’t been a dream. Sure enough, the money was still there. “Still need to work, though, right? I mean, Tony has a lot more than that, and _he_ still comes to work. It’ll keep me out of trouble.”

Besides, Peter loved working in the lab with Bruce. He didn’t say it, but it was definitely true. It was his dream job.

“I suppose that’s true.” He turned back to his display. “I heard Spider-man stopped a robbery yesterday.”

“Yeah. I heard that, too.”

“Right in front of a group of tourists,” Bruce added. “Pretty daring.”

“It wasn't that big a deal, really. The guy didn’t even have a gun – just a finger pointing in his jacket pocket.”

“Made the news.”

Peter blushed, again.

He’d seen it. Tony and he had been finishing dinner the night before when FRIDAY had brought up the news coverage that she’d scanned. The tourists had managed to get video of Spider-man swinging in from out of nowhere, foiling the robbery, making sure the intended victim wasn't injured and the would-be criminal was secured with some webbing, and then swinging away before the police showed up.

It hadn’t been dangerous, but Tony had been pleased when he saw it, because it looked flashy.

“That’s good press, right there, honey,” he’d told Peter, smiling. “No one was hurt, and it shows off your athleticism.”

Peter had simply flushed at the warm look in Tony’s eyes, just then.

“Are you going to come out, then?” Bruce asked.

Peter nodded.

“Pepper is setting up the news conference on Friday.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a good idea, though,” Bruce said, approvingly. “You probably will be safer with people knowing. Are you going to stay with Tony?”

Peter frowned.

“What do you mean?”

The scientist shrugged, once more looking at his display.

“You had to live with him, because you needed to be able to prove to the judge that you had a secure living environment, right? But you’re rich, now. You’re stable. You could move out. For that matter, coming out as Spider-man, you could – and maybe _should_ – move into the compound, full time, so the Avengers can teach you how to become one of them.”

Peter stared at him, and it was probably just as well that Bruce didn’t see the suddenly stricken look on the boy’s face, just then.

He hadn’t thought of that. What if Tony didn’t want him to live with him anymore? He hadn’t said anything, but Bruce was right. Tony didn’t _have_ to take care of Peter, anymore. The promise that he’d made to the judge at Peter’s emancipation hearing wasn't really valid, any longer, since Peter had money, now, and could – technically – take care of himself. Maybe he’d ask him to move.

He’d be nice about it, of course – Tony loved him and wouldn’t hurt him – but maybe he’d want his privacy back. They could still see each other, but maybe he’d tell Peter that he would be better off with his own place, and his own-

“Hey, hand me that stylus, will you?” Bruce asked, breaking into Peter’s musings without looking up from what he was doing.

The boy looked around, and picked up the requested item, handing it over without a word.

“Thanks, Peter. Do me a favor and see what the reading is for my latest batch of neutrinos, will you?”

“Yeah.”

Peter turned away, but Bruce must have heard something in his voice, because he looked over, just in time to see the boy’s back when he pulled up a display of his own.

“Are you alright?”

“Sure,” came the ready reply, but Peter didn’t look at him. “I show 7 thousand and 48 percent.”

Banner nodded.

“That’s within range.” He manipulated the data field on his display. “Now?”

“Forty-nine.”

“Good.”

Distracted, he turned his attention back to the experiment, and Peter tried to focus enough to not let on to Bruce just how troubled his thoughts were, suddenly.

><><><><>< 

“Three sightings in one weekend…”

Tony smiled up at Pepper, who was leaning against the edge of his desk. He’d spent the morning with Peter, watching him do his schoolwork, but not really doing anything, himself, but enjoying the boy’s company. Now, with Peter up working with Bruce, Tony had put his feet up on his desk and was looking out the window, thinking maybe Bob needed to go for a walk but ready to just enjoy the fact that the sun was out.

Then Pepper had arrived in his office, ostensibly to go over a few things before a meeting they had, later, but unable to stop herself from bringing up the Spider-man thing.

“He’s better than Bigfoot,” Tony told her. “And the pictures are a lot less grainy.”

She smiled her approval.

“The tourist thing was perfect. You didn’t set that up, did you?”

“Nope. He said that he just happened to get the feeling something was going to happen, and he was right. Boom.”

“He wasn't hurt?”

“Nah. Not doing something like that. He’s pretty tough.”

For a sweet little baby boy that Tony cuddled in his bed every night.

“Is he going to stay with you, once his identity is known?” she asked, curiously, well aware that she could have the frank conversation with Tony in his office, since FRIDAY would make sure no one overheard what they were talking about. “Or will he be moving upstate?”

Tony lost his smile.

“Upstate?”

She shrugged.

“He’s going to be an Avenger, right? Shouldn’t he be living with them?”

“No. He can’t fight crime in the city if he isn’t _living_ in the city.”

She shrugged.

“Just asking. Tell me what you want to do about the potential Hagar merger.”

Tony shrugged, suddenly lost in his own thoughts and not at all worried about any mergers – or any other Stark Industries business.

What if she was right? Would Peter want to move out? He didn’t need Tony, anymore. Not really. He was set up with his weekly therapy sessions, now, and he had money enough that he didn’t need Tony to buy him things or provide the security that he’d once lacked. With his identity becoming known, Peter was going to be ready to spread his wings and test them out.

And maybe fly away from Tony’s arms.

And Tony would have to let him go, because it would be what was best for Peter. What Peter wanted. He'd be alone, but he'd be able to watch his baby grow and become the amazing man that he was destined to be.

The thought literally sent a pang of sorrow through his chest that took his breath away.

“Tony?”

She pulled his from his thoughts before a true panic attack could start, and he was able to look up at her without giving too much of his inner turmoil away.

“Yes? Sorry. What?”

“I asked, what do you want to do about the Hangar merger? It’s a good company and would be a good fit with the R&D they’re doing on genetic cellular mutation.”

“Sounds like a winner,” he said, absently. “We’ll go with whatever you think is best.”

She seemed satisfied with the answer, but when he looked out the window in between questions about the company, the day didn’t seem to be quite so bright.

What if he lost his baby?


	207. 207

Peter seemed somewhat subdued when they got into the back of the car at the end of the day, but Tony was fairly well wrapped up in his own bleak thoughts and didn’t necessarily notice. The boy crawled into his lap, cuddling close as they pulled away from the tower and Tony shifted Peter’s position just enough to allow him to tuck him under his chin – his favorite way to hold him when _he_ most needed comfort from that slight frame.

“Did you have a good day?” he asked, stroking his baby’s curls, lovingly.

What if there was only a finite number of times that he had left to do it?

Peter nodded, even though Tony couldn’t see it.

“Yes. Bruce is going to finish the new experiment this week, I think, and then he said he’d let me help him write up the results.”

“Does that mean if it publishes that you’ll get credit?”

“No. But it’ll still be exciting to be a part of the process.”

Tony forced a little lightheartedness into his tone.

“He has you brainwashed, honey,” he said. “You’re doing all the work, and he’s taking the credit.”

Peter chuckled, weakly, and Tony felt him turn his head and kiss his neck.

“It’s still exciting.”

“I’m glad.”

They fell silent, then; both lost in their own thoughts and holding on to the other as the only thing keeping them from breaking down.

_“Stopping anywhere, boss?”_ Happy asked, belatedly.

“Do you have any special requests for dinner?” Tony asked Peter, softly.

“No.”

He supposed he ought to take more interest in watching Tony cook, if he was going to end up being in his own place. Cooking his own meals. Sleeping alone. Going to and from work alone, even. Everything was going to be done alone. It made him shiver to think that he was going to be back in the same place he’d been before Happy and Tony had found him.

Peter was enjoying not being alone. He should have known it wasn't going to last, but it had been so easy to believe.

Besides, he told himself as he felt the sting of tears and ruthlessly brushed them away on the collar of Tony’s expensive shirt, he wasn't going to be _alone_. He’d still have Tony and the others. Tony wouldn’t stop letting him come over, he supposed. At least, he didn’t _think_ that he would. Happy and the Avengers were still going to talk to him; he had them in his contacts on his phone, after all. And, of course, he had Ned to hang out with – and maybe Bob, every other weekend, or however that would work.

He wasn't going to be completely alone this time.

It was just going to _feel_ like it.

“No, Happy,” Tony replied over the intercom, breaking Peter out of his reverie. “Just take us home, please.”

>><><><>><>< 

Dinner ended up being chef salads and fresh bread.

When they returned home, Tony changed into more casual clothing, and then put Peter to work chopping vegetables and meats for their salads.

“Are you working on your new armor tonight?” Peter asked, watching as Tony pulled a block of cheese to grate.

“No. It’ll wait for a while, and I’m not in the mood, just now.”

“Are you okay?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, honey, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Peter was afraid to ask him what he was thinking about, really, and he turned his attention to the ham and turkey that he was cutting into chunks.

Tony noticed – as he had in the car – that Peter was subdued, but he assumed it was just from having a long day and an even longer weekend. Especially since he was, _technically_ , still recovering from his abduction.

“I’m going to take Bob for his walk,” Tony told Peter when they finished eating. Neither had eaten much. “Will you clear the dishes?”

“Yes.”

Peter watched as Tony harnessed Bob, admiring just how good looking and wonderful he was, and sniffed, softly, when they had left, turning his attention to the simple chore of cleaning up the kitchen and putting their dishes in the dishwasher. Then he went and changed into a pair of sweats to lounge around in, and was just settling on the couch when Tony returned.

The billionaire smiled over at him and hung the leash and harness.

“It’s cold out,” he told the boy, moving to the couch to sit beside his baby. “We should probably make sure that you have a heavier coat than that SHIELD jacket sometime soon.”

The sincere way that Tony wanted to take care of him – and the thought of losing that – made Peter tear up. He moved to put himself in his lap and pressed his face against Tony’s shoulder, even as he felt him reaching to hold him.

“Are you alright, honey?” Tony asked, noticing the way Peter trembled, but not too concerned, since he was always cold and was incredibly responsive. Since he wasn't doing anything, just then, to arouse him, he had to assume that he was cold, and he pulled the blanket over them. “I’ve got you…”

It was Peter’s undoing, and Tony was shocked when he heard a choked sob, followed by more shaking, and he pulled the boy back to be able to look at him, more closely.

“I’m okay,” Peter assured him, brokenly, eyes filled with tears, and red-rimmed, frail frame seemingly ready to shake itself into pieces right there in his arms.

“Honey… what’s wrong?”

Peter shook his head, dissolving into tears and burying his face into Tony’s neck.

The sound he made might have been a denial of anything being wrong, but it wasn’t convincing.

Tony held him through the first spate of tears, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get anything out of the boy until he’d had a chance to calm down a little, first, and he simply cradled him in his embrace, cooing to him how wonderful he was, and how strong, and brave – and how much he loved him.

Almost thirty minutes passed before Peter finally hiccupped and eventually stilled.

“Did someone say something to you that hurt your feelings?” Tony finally asked, softly, into the silence of the room.

“No…”

“Did I?”

“No.”

Peter sniffed, and Tony felt him moved to try and wipe his nose, which had to be red and running.

“You’re not hurting, are you?”

Maybe he wasn't as recovered as they thought? Maybe Tony had been to physical with him. Between their loving that weekend and Peter going out three times as Spider-man, it might have been more than the boy could handle.

“No.”

“Honey…” Tony threaded his fingers through Peter’s hair, caressing him and calming him with his touch. “What is it, then? _Communicate_ with me, Peter. What’s wrong, brave boy?”

Peter pressed his face even tighter against Tony, and the older man felt him shaking, once more. This time, though, there weren’t any tears, and he couldn’t be cold. All Tony could think of was fear. But his baby was tough, and amazing. And safe.

He didn’t have anything to be afraid of.

“Idon’twanttobealone…”

It had been months since Tony had had to try and translate one of Peter’s run on sentences, and it took him a moment to do so – especially since it was also muffled.

“You’re not alone, Peter. I’m here.”

“For _now_ …” Peter whispered, unable to say the terrible words any louder. “Butyoudon’thavetotakecareofmeanymore, andI’mgoingtohavetomove…”


	208. 208

Tony felt his own heart break looking at just how inconsolable Peter was, but a small part of him felt a sliver of hope, too.

Maybe he wasn't going to want to leave? Maybe Peter would be willing to stay with him? To be with him? To keep him from being alone? Even though he didn’t _need_ Tony to take care of him, now, maybe Peter _wanted_ Tony to take care of him? Could he dare get his hopes up? Even a little?

He squashed the thought, for now, for the same reason he felt so hopeful. Peter needed him, just then. Needed Tony to be the daddy and to reassure him – as soon as he understood exactly what he meant – and how he’d come to the conclusion that he was going to be forced to move out.

“Honey…” A fresh round of tears had Peter clinging to Tony once more for comfort, his face hidden like the boy so frequently did when he needed to be sheltered. Tony didn’t try to make him look at him, but he did guide his head back to his shoulder to make sure he was listening – and could speak to him without the shirt muffling his voice. “Peter… who said you had to _move_?”

“Bruce.”

Tony frowned.

“Bruce told you that you have to move out?”

“No.” Peter sniffed, and Tony waited. Sure enough, it was Peter who spoke first. “But he said that you don’t have to be responsible for me, now, because I have money and I can take care of myself.”

“So you think that means that I don’t _want_ to be responsible for you?” Tony asked, gently. “That I’m not going to be your daddy anymore?”

“I don’t want to leave you…” Peter said, mournfully. “I wish I didn’t have all that money… then I could stay here, and it could stay like it was, and you’d still be there for me, and want to be responsible for watching me, like you told the judge you would.”

He was cried out, now, but still shaking like a leaf, and still holding Tony with that implacable grip he had, and Tony felt his own eyes stinging with tears that he ruthlessly suppressed, assuming, correctly, that Peter wouldn’t understand that they were relief.

“Honey…” Toney turned his head to brush a kiss against Peter’s cheek, which was smeared with tears and snot and was flushed from his crying. “Shhh… let’s communicate… okay?”

“Alright.”

“Sit up a little,” Tony told him, shifting his baby in his lap a bit, but allowing him to keep his head on his shoulder. As long as he was comfortable, he’d be listening. “Now… let me ask you something.”

“Okay.”

“Are you happy with me? I mean, living here with me and Bob, letting me take care of you and be your daddy?”

Peter sniffed and Tony felt him nodding his head.

“Yes.”

“Do you think I’m happy having you here?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Because I _am_. Having all that money doesn’t mean that you have to move, honey.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No. It means that you _can_ , though. It givers you an opportunity to do anything that you want, and not be tied to someplace you don’t want to be, just because you can’t afford to live anywhere else.”

“I want to be here,” Peter said, brokenly. “I don’t want to be somewhere else. Away from you.”

“I want you here, honey. I know that I’ve told you that you make me happier than I’ve ever been, in my entire life. I meant it. I don’t want you here with me because you have to be – because you don’t have any other option. Any choice.” He steeled himself – just in _case_. “I want you to stay with me only if you _want_ to. Because you love me, and you _want_ to be here with me – even when I’ve had a bad day and I’m being an asshole to you.”

“You do?” Peter asked. “Even though you don’t get to tell anyone about me? And we can’t go to the parties or even out to a bar or something?”

“Yes. I told you what I think of the parties, right? I’ve already said that I love being with you more than I love building suits by myself. Do you really think I love the _parties_ more than I love building suits or being with you?”

Not when he said it like that, Peter realized. Then he just made it sound ridiculous. Who would love parties more than making a new Ironman suit? Peter knew how much Tony enjoyed working with the tech. How many hours had he leaned against him, watching over his shoulder as he manipulated the data that FRIDAY showed him, perfecting the schematics?

“No.”

“Damn right, no.” Tony brushed another kiss against Peter’s cheek, holding his lips there for a long moment, trembling, himself. “I love you, Peter Parker. So much that if you _wanted_ to move out, I would help you do it – even though I’d be so lonely, after you were gone. So much that if it made you happy to have your own place, I would be all for it, because I want _you_ to be happy more than I want _me_ to be happy.”

He was quiet for a long time, and Tony knew he was thinking over what he’d said. It was another that he loved so much about the boy. He was a thinker. Finally, Peter sniffed, again.

“I don’t want to move out, Tony. I want to stay here. With you.”

“You understand that you can change your mind, right?” Tony told him, unable to help the way that his arms tightened around Peter as he held him. “You’re my baby, but I don’t own you, and aside from when you’re doing your Spider-man thing, I don’t have the right to tell you what to do.”

“Except when we’re playing daddy and baby,” Peter corrected. “Then you’re still the daddy, right?”

Tony smiled.

“Yes. Then I’m the daddy and I get to tell you what to do. The rest of the time, we’ll decide things together, okay?”

“I can stay? Even though I’m rich, now?”

“Of course you can, honey. No one can make you leave me. I don’t want you to leave me.” He hugged him, tightly, feeling giddy, almost. “I want you to stay here. With me. And _Bob_.”

Another sniff, but not so distraught, now.

“Okay.”

He pulled back, now, and turned Peter’s head to look at the boy. His face was splotchy from crying and his wonderful eyes were watery and red, but he was still beautiful.

“I love you, Peter.”

The boy smiled, and a fresh tear trickled down the already moist path along his cheek.

“I love you, too, Tony.”

The billionaire kissed his forehead, and then each eye, tasting the salt from his tears, and licking it from his lips before kissing Peter there, as well. Then he pulled the blanket a little more firmly around them and guided Peter’s cheek back to his shoulder.

“Do you feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Ready to be my baby for a while?”

Peter nodded.

“Yes. Always.”

“God… that’s such a long time. It’s amazing to think I’ll have you there to keep me company.”

Peter brushed a kiss against Tony’s neck, right under his jaw.

“You will.”

“You’re so wonderful, honey,” Tony crooned. “Such an amazing, loving person. I don’t deserve you. You know that, right?”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a dick. But not with you in my life. You make me better.”

“I do?”

“You don’t think so?”

“I don’t know. You’re always good to _me_.”

Tony chuckled.

“I’ll tell you a secret, honey. But you can’t tell anyone. Yeah?”

“Okay.”

“I’m teaching you how to be a superhero.”

“Yes.”

That wasn't much of a secret, really.

“You’re teaching _me_ how to be a good person.”

Peter smiled.

“I think you’re a good person, already.”

Tony shivered And then smiled. Maybe _he_ had a praise kink, too?

“You’re so perfect, honey. Can I hold you?”

“For as long as you want,” the boy confirmed, arms going around Tony, sliding under his shirt to press against bare skin.

Peter went still, but Tony held him for a long time, and every time he turned his head to brush a kiss against his baby’s face, those chocolate eyes would meet his, and Tony would be reminded – again – just how fortunate he really was.

It was just a bonus that Peter felt the same way, really.

 


	209. 209

It was a quiet night for them, after that.

They had planned on Peter going out as Spider-man – for a little while just to add to his visibility – but the boy was tired from his emotional day, and so was _Tony_ , really, and the older man didn’t want to risk his baby out in the night already tired. That just seemed like a recipe for disaster and Tony wasn't ready to tempt fate.

Instead, he eventually suggested that they simply call it a day and go to bed.

After a shower to help relax both of them, Tony gathered Peter into his arms, tucking the boy into his embrace once more.

“Beautiful boy,” he crooned, not trying to arouse him, just reminding Peter that he was loved. “Maybe we should take a day off, tomorrow?”

“I’m okay,” Peter assured him, sleepily. He was pretty behind on his schoolwork from the after-effects of his abduction, after all. “I don’t want to miss any more schoolwork, and Bruce needs my help in the lab.”

“I don’t want you stretching yourself too thin…”

Peter pressed his face against Tony’s chest, feeling happy and relieved. And _loved_.

“I’m not, daddy. Really. School doesn’t take that much _effort_ – but it’s piling up on me – and Bruce is going to let me write things up, so I need to understand what I’m doing. That means being there.”

Tony let himself be swayed, reminding himself that he’d just told Peter that he was capable of making his own decisions and it’d be hypocritical of him to start ordering him around only hours later. Which made him smile, though, and pull the boy even closer to him, because even Peter had balked at losing the daddy/baby dynamic between them, and he loved him for being so willing to let Tony have the lead in that part of their relationship.

“If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

“Alright, honey.”

Peter ran his fingers along Tony’s side, lightly.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Making me feel better.” He sighed, and his lips pressed lightly against Tony’s chest. “I was pretty scared.”

“I was, too, Peter,” Tony admitted. “I thought sure I was going to lose you.”

“We’re a lot alike, sometimes,” Peter said. “Aren't we?”

“Yes. Maybe that’s why we’re such a good fit for each other.”

The boy smiled, even though Tony couldn’t see it in the mostly dark room.

“Yeah.”

“You know,” Tony said, softly, his own fingers finding Peter’s still somewhat damp curls and playing with them. “If you’re going to be a permanent fixture here, we should find some things to put on the walls that _you_ like. Maybe some décor in the living room to make it feel more like _your_ home, too.”

“A Star Trek movie poster?”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“I was thinking a Picasso or a Rembrandt.”

“How is that something that I would like?” Peter asked, pulling back enough to look up at him.

“I’d have _you_ pick it out,” Tony told him, tapping him on the nose, lightly. “But if you want a movie poster, I suppose we could find one. For the guest bathroom.”

Which made Peter chuckle, knowing that Tony was teasing him, now.

“Could we get a picture of us?” he asked. “Like a family portrait? Only put the _others_ in it, so no one knows that it’s really just you, me, and Bob?”

“An extended family portrait?” Tony suggested. “I like that idea. Think Ned would be interested in being in it?”

“And Monica and Boomer?”

The billionaire smiled.

“I love that idea, baby.”

Peter smiled, too, and then felt giddy, suddenly. Those were things real families did, after all. Even when it was an extended one, like Tony said. He’d thought that once May and Ben had died, he wasn't going to ever have that, again.

And now he _did_. Thanks to Tony.

Surprising the older man, he pushed Tony onto his back, and rolled on top of him, straddling his stomach and pinning him with his negligible weight.

Tony wasn't concerned. He reached up and brushed his fingers along Peter’s cheek.

“What do you have in mind, honey?”

“You’re mine?”

“ _Utterly_ ,” Tony confirmed. “Without question or hesitation.”

“Give me a new hickey, daddy…”

Tony smiled, softly. His baby was being demanding – although the demand was hardly a chore. It was a start.

“That can be arranged.”

><><><><>>> 

The next morning was cold.

Despite being bundled with a sweatshirt and two t-shirts under his SHIELD jacket, Peter was shivering when he returned from walking Bob.

“It’s cold out?” Tony asked from the kitchen where he was making breakfast.

Peter wasn't complaining, but his cheeks and ears were red, and when Tony reached out and touched him, his skin was freezing, still.

“Yeah. I think summer is officially over.”

“When we’re done at the tower this evening, why don’t we stop and get you some warmer clothes,” Tony said, sliding his hands under Peter’s many layers. “We’ll see how many layers it takes to keep my baby warm.”

The boy shivered, again, but it was Tony’s touch that was setting him off, then, and he kissed his chin, leaning into him.

“I stay warm enough when I’m moving, for the most part,” he said. “It’s just when I stop. That’s when the cold seeps in on me.”

“Let me think about it,” Tony told him, cupping his rear and holding him tight for a long moment. “I might be able to come up with something that will keep you warm when it’s inconvenient for me to be draped over you.”

Peter laughed.

“That might give things away.”

“True.” Tony kissed him, again, and then released him. “Until then, I’ll make you some cocoa.”

“Thanks, daddy. I’m going to go get changed.”

“Breakfast won’t be long.”

Peter left, and Tony watched him go, waiting until he was gone – and presumably out of range of hearing.

“FRIDAY? Is my appointment set?”

_“Yes. They will be waiting for you at ten am.”_

“Don’t tell Peter.”

_“You have a meeting at ten,”_ the AI reminded him.

“I’ll talk to Pepper when I get to the tower.”

><><><>>< 

Tony entered his office just before lunchtime, looking pleased with himself and obviously trying hard to hide it. Luckily, Peter was focused on the display screen and didn’t look up until Tony’s arms came around him from behind, and the billionaire rested his chin on the boy’s shoulder, looking at the screen.

“Cave men?”

_“Paleolithic humans.”_

“Otherwise known as _cave men?_ ”

Peter smiled tilting his head to rest his head against Tony’s.

“The syllabus doesn’t call them cave men, so I shouldn’t get into the habit of it, either. I have a test coming up, and I don’t want to lose points because I used incorrect verbiage.”

“Important test?”

“All tests are important,” Peter told him. “Right, FRIDAY?”

_“Correct._

“When is this one?”

“Tomorrow.”

“You aren’t working in the lab with Bruce, tomorrow, are you?”

“No. He doesn’t need me.”

“Good. Because I do. When you’re done with school, tomorrow, why don’t I take a half day and we’ll celebrate you passing your test?”

Peter smiled, wondering why Tony looked so happy.

“What if I _fail_ it?”

“Then we’ll celebrate that you get to take it again, later.”

The boy rolled his eyes.

“Are we doing anything else?” he asked, curiously.

“Maybe someplace nice for lunch, and a little privacy for us to be together…” the older man said, and now he turned his head and pressed his lips against Peter’s neck. “Are you about done, today? I’ll let you buy me lunch.”

“Staff eat free in the cafeteria,” Peter told him. “I’ll buy you some corn dogs.”

Tony snorted.

“You clearly need to work on the whole millionaire mentality, honey,” he told his baby. “ _Corn dogs_?”

“With curly fries,” Peter added, cheerfully.

“Throw in a milkshake and I’m yours.”

“Done.”


	210. 210

“Seriously?”  
“You don’t like it?”  
“It’s pretty _poofy_.”  
“So… _no_?”  
“Not really…”  
Tony made a humphing noise, hung the coat that he’d been holding up back on the rack and looked around the winter clothing area of the store.  
“ _Leather_?” He asked, walking over to a small display of very nice (and expensive) leather jackets. He held up a brown one that was a match for Peter’s eyes. “I bet you’d look great in leather – and it’s pretty warm. Try it on.”  
The boy pulled off the SHIELD jacket that he was wearing and traded Tony, slipping on the leather jacket, which was a lot heavier and would clearly be warmer.  
“Looking good,” Tony told him, smiling, and turning the boy around so he could look in the mirror – and Tony could see how it looked from behind. “What do you think?”  
“I don’t know,” Peter said, hesitating. “If it gets wet, won’t it ruin the leather?”  
“We’ll have it _treated_. It’ll be fine. We could get you some leather pants, too,” he added, softly, and just barely resisted the temptation to run his hand along Peter’s rear – covering the motion by brushing the shoulders of the jacket, instead. “You’d look so hot…”  
Peter blushed at the low, and incredibly sexy tone Tony’s voice was suddenly taking.  
“No to the pants, but yes to the jacket,” he said, smiling. “I like the jacket, but I don’t want to look like a biker.’  
Tony chuckled.  
“With your baby face, we probably don’t have to worry too much about anyone mistaking you for anything that hard-core. But I’ll live without you in the pants – for now.“  
>><><>  
They’d left the tower a little earlier than usual – because Bruce had to go to a meeting of his own and he didn’t want to leave Peter alone in his lab. Not that he didn’t trust him, he said; but he had promised Tony not to leave the boy alone in the lab unsupervised – things could _happen_ , after all, and Peter had exceeded just how many super hero powers that he was allowed to get from radiation and lab incidents.  
So Peter had presented himself in Tony’s office, ready to end his day – even though Tony was in the middle of a conference call and wasn’t quite as ready.  
The boy had stayed out of the way, miming to the billionaire that he was going to take Bob out for a walk.  
By the time he’d returned, Tony was finished with his conversation and was ready to leave, as well. They’d called Happy to come get them, and Tony had asked the driver to take them to an upscale men’s store, where they were now trying on jackets – but _not_ leather pants, no matter how sexy Tony thought Peter would look.  
“Are you getting a new coat, too?”  
“I don’t really need one,” Tony told him. “I went on a buying binge last year when it had the audacity to snow on me when I was in Prague on an unexpected assignment with the others. I’m probably good for the next couple of winters.” He smiled, his eyes warm and loving.  
“Today’s shopping trip is all about you.”  
Which made Peter feel special, of course – which he knew was the whole idea.  
“Thank you.”  
“Let’s find you some gloves and maybe a beanie hat or ear muffs, or something – and warmer shoes; boots or something.”  
“Do you think I really _need_ all of that?”  
“You’re going to be walking Bob, right? Through rain, sleet and snow?”  
“Yeah. And Boomer.”  
“Then you’ll probably be glad to have it all.”  
He didn’t mention the fact that Peter was always so cold, too. As far as he was concerned, the more layers and the warmer the clothing that he was wearing the better.  
“True.” Peter smiled, taking the leather jacket from Tony. “You’re a pretty smart guy, Tony Stark.”  
Which made the billionaire smile, pleased that Peter was in such a good mood.   
“I try. If Bob wasn’t waiting at home for us – probably licking his chops and debating chewing the knobs on the sofa recliner, I’d suggest we go out for dinner.”  
Peter hesitated, and then smiled, hopefully.  
“I could make dinner.”  
Tony forced himself not to hesitate.  
“Yeah? Think you’re ready?”  
“If we don’t have something too complicated. _Can_ I?”  
“Of course you can.” He’d risk food poisoning if that was what it took to make his baby happy. “What did you have in mind?”  
“Spaghetti?”  
Which was a great choice, really. It looked impressive, but really wasn’t too hard – even if they thawed rolls so they could have fresh bread with it.  
“Sounds good. I get to watch, though, right?”  
Peter smiled; neither were going to forget the mess that he’d made of the kitchen with the cookie fiasco, any time soon.  
“You can. Even better, if you’re willing, you can quiz me while I cook and help me prepare for my test, tomorrow.”  
He had planned on using FRIDAY, but Tony was cuter – and that would be some together time with him.   
“That sounds like a good way to spend the evening,” Tony agreed. “Let’s go find you some accessories to go with that fine jacket and then head home and see what kind of trouble our dog has gotten himself into.”  
><><><>>  
It turned out to be a great way to spend the evening.  
In a reversal of roles, Peter was the one behind the island on the cooking side, while Tony pulled up a display that had a list of sample questions from the test he was going to be taking the next morning. The older man would ask a question – waiting until Peter wasn’t in the middle of anything that might make dinner suffer if he was distracted – and the boy would give the answer without hesitation.  
Proving once more that he was bright – and wasn’t going to have any trouble with the test.  
Dinner turned out pretty good, too.  
The sauce was a little over-cooked, but you had to be a real foodie to even notice – and the bread rolls would have benefited from another minute in the oven, but for a first try, with homemade sauce? Tony heaped praises on Peter as they ate until the boy’s cheeks were as red as the sauce, his eyes were lit up with happiness and he was practically wriggling in his seat.  
“That was amazing, honey,” Tony told him, one last time, as he finished the last roll. “Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome.”  
Tony stood up, and kissed Peter’s cheek – which had a spot of sauce that he tasted on him.  
“I’ll do the dishes. Why don’t you go get changed and we’ll watch a movie?”  
“Sounds good.”  
Flush with his success, Peter practically skipped to his room to go get cleaned up and change into sweats.  
The older man watched him go and then started cleaning the table. It was good, but he wasn’t too concerned that he was going to be out of a job in the kitchen any time soon. It was the attempt that counted – and the self confidence that the success would give his baby that was important.  
“FRIDAY? Is the reservation set for tomorrow?”  
“ _Yes. One PM at the Green Room.”_  
“Private room?”  
“ _Yes_.”  
“Perfect.”  
He finished loading the dishwasher, and then went to change, too. They’d have a quiet night, that evening, but he was definitely looking forward to the next day.

 


	211. 211

“He has a quiz?”

“Yes. An important one, too.” Tony rolled his eyes, amused. “FRIDAY shooed me out of my own office.”

Clearly, since he was sitting on the sofa in Pepper’s – with nothing to do but bother her, since Bruce wasn't in the tower that day.

“But he’s been hurt. How is he all caught up, already?”

“He isn’t. But this is his history class – and that one he’s good to go on. I quizzed him last night and he didn’t miss a beat. Even got the ones I made up right.”

She smiled; it was easy to see that Tony was proud of the boy – and obviously happy.

“Where’s Bob?”

“He was allowed to stay.” Another eye roll. “Apparently, he isn’t a distraction. Can you imagine that? _Me_? A _distraction_?”

Since she wasn't getting anything done that she had planned for that morning, Pepper graced him with an eye roll of her own.

“No. You?”

Tony smirked.

“Right?”

“Since you’re here… The press conference is laid on for Friday morning. Is that going to work for you – and him?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m putting Barb Johansen in the front row and promised her the first question.”

“What? Why?”

“Because she’s going to keep her mouth shut on the fact that she knows what the press conference is all about.”

“She contacted you?”

“She did. But she was cautiously polite about the whole thing – like she was almost afraid to mention it. She mentioned that if we happened to have a spot in the front for her, she would appreciate it.”

Which made Tony feel just a little smug – and a bit magnanimous.

“Fine. She can have the first question.”

With the threat of Natasha Romanoff looming over her, he was certain it would be a good one – but not very aggressive. Maybe he’d have Natasha and Steve there, just to add to the show. Make it clear that they were accepting Peter as one of their own.

When he mentioned it, Pepper agreed with him – if he could get them to find the time in their schedule to attend. Nothing added to the excitement of a press conference like a couple of superheroes, after all.

“Anyone else you want there?” she asked as they discussed the walkthrough of the event and how she envisioned it happening.

“I thought I’d invite Peter’s friend, Ned.”

“He already knows?”

“He does. Besides, I want you to meet him. He’s very bright, and might be a good candidate for an internship here.”

“Really?”

Tony hated dealing with interns, and she knew it. This Ned kid must be something else.

“Yes.” He remembered something else, then. “What are you doing Saturday?”

“That depends on why you’re asking – and if it’s something I want to make time for.”

“Fair enough. Peter has decided that he wants to stay on at the apartment with me – even though now he’s rich and doesn’t have to.”

“Which you are fine with…”

“Absolutely, I am. But if he’s living there, then he should have a say in what’s on the walls and the like. When I mentioned that to him, he suggested a movie poster.”

She snorted, indelicately, which made him smile.

“And…?”

“And I countered with a Picasso of his choice.”

“And…?”

“He countered with a family portrait – like regular families do once a year.”

“At the risk of being cruel… he doesn’t have a family.”

“And neither do I,” Tony agreed. “Which leads us back to Saturday. He wants a picture taken. Of his extended family. The people he likes – and I like. So we are cordially inviting you to be in our family portrait.”

Her eyes turned soft, then, and he was pleased by the slight smile on her face.

“Really?”

“Don’t get too excited,” he added, unable to stop from using humor to make things less awkward. “Bob’s going to be in it, too.”

“Who else?”

“The Avengers, Monica, Happy and Ned.”

“Quite a family.”

“I know, right? Interested?”

“Of course. Where?”

“The compound, I think. I’ll set it up with Fury. Maybe we’ll make an afternoon of it – barbeque or something.”

“Let me know.”

She was in a pretty good mood, though, when she turned the conversation to the few things that they needed to discuss work-wise.

><><><><>>>>><< 

“Well?”

Peter shrugged.

“She’s still grading it.”

“FRIDAY?”

_“Working on it.”_

“You’re a quantum AI,” Tony pointed out. “It’s a history quiz. How long can it take?”

_“I’m interfacing with a public school system that was last updated a year and a half ago, and has the same quiz being handled by over 9 thousand students. Unfortunately, even I have to wait my turn.”_

The boy grinned at that, and Tony shook his head.

“Do we want to wait around? Or do we head out and let her surprise us when she’s finished?”

“Are you hungry?”

“We have a reservation at one.”

“Oh.” He looked at Bob, who was lounging in his bed, but watching them. “Are we taking Bob?”

“Nope. We’re taking him to Monica, who is finished for the day at the flower shop, and has agreed to keep him company at her place and make him cookies so he doesn’t feel left out.”

“We can go.”

He had a feeling something was going on.

Tony looked pleased with himself, and maybe a little nervous – but mostly smug and excited. Peter didn’t think that _he’d_ done anything so amazing that it was about him, so maybe he had a breakthrough on the suit that he was going to share with him. Or, even better, maybe a new kind of tech that he was excited about. Nanotech was amazing, but even Peter knew that there was always something new coming around – and Stark Industries was right at the front of R&D.

><><><><> 

Happy was waiting when they walked out of the front door of the tower, but when he dropped them off, Tony told him to take the rest of the day off. They were just going to go eat and he’d drive them, he said – especially since Bob wasn't joining them. Which meant they could take one of the sportscars.

While Tony dropped Bob at Monica’s, Peter went to change into something a little nicer, since Tony mentioned that even though it was just lunch, the place was fancy. The billionaire was already in an expensive, perfectly tailored suit, but Peter was in jeans and a sweatshirt. With the unlimited wardrobe that he had, now – courtesy of Tony’s love to dress him up – he had plenty of nicer things to wear, and opted for slacks and a button down shirt.

“You look beautiful, baby,” Tony complimented him, as he held the car door for him in the garage.

Peter blushed.

“Thank you, daddy.”

He put his hand on the older man’s thigh as they drove, and they were just dropping the car at valet when FRIDAY announced that he passed his quiz with a 98%.

Tony smiled, and was amused that Peter immediately asked her what he’d missed.

“Worry about it later,” he told the boy as he led him into the restaurant and was immediately recognized by the people manning the reservation stand. “We’ll celebrate a 98%.”

They didn’t touch each other as they were guided to a small, private, room, and after ordering drinks, they were left alone, the door closed firmly behind the attentive staff. Tony said that they would ring a soft bell every time they were going to enter the room, and he winked at Peter and pulled a small device from his pocket and held it up for a ten count.

“What is that?” Peter asked, curiously.

“Bug killer,” Tony replied, looking at the display. “It’ll make sure that if there’s a camera, or a microphone, anywhere in the area, it’s dead. Not that they want to listen in on us in particular, but a lot of high level meetings take place in rooms like this, and information can get out that could destroy a merger before it got off the ground.”

“Oh.” Peter frowned. “We’re just having lunch, though…”

Tony smiled.

“ _Or_ … we could discuss our future.”

“What do you mean?”

Secure in the knowledge that they weren’t going to be overheard – or seen – Tony reached for Peter’s hand, caressing the palm.

“You know I love you.”

“Yeah.” He did know. It was incredible to him, but there was no doubt. However... “ _But_ …?”

“There’s _no_ but, Peter,” Tony told him, his gaze suddenly intense. “I love you. And I worry about you being so uncertain, sometimes, about that. Like you just were. So, I got something for you. For _us_.”

He let go of Peter’s hand and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small delicate bag of black velvet and handing it to the boy.

Curious, Peter opened it and pulled out a small velvet box – and he looked at Tony. He’d seen enough TV shows and movies to know there was a ring, inside.

“What…? I mean…”

“Open it, honey.”

He did, and made a soft sound. The ring was black metal, dully gleaming in the lighting of the room, but clearly high quality and intricately interwoven with a hint of something else within the metal.

“Wow… it’s pretty.”

“It’s not an engagement ring,” Tony said, softly, taking the box back, and pulling the ring out of it, and reaching for Peter’s hand to slide it on his finger. “Or, obviously, a wedding ring.”

“What is it, then?” Peter asked, curiously. It was amazing, and fit perfectly.

“It’s a promise ring, Peter. A symbol from me, to you, that I’ll be here for you, and I’ll love you. If you ever start to doubt that – or if you ever feel uncertain about us, all you need to do is look at it, and remember that I love you.”

The boy felt the sting of tears, then, and he smiled.

“Wow. I love it.”

“And _me_?”

Peter nodded.

“ _Always_ you, Tony.”

“Well…” He brought Peter’s hand up, pressing his lips against his fingers – and the new ring. “If you wait long enough; on your 18th birthday, I’ll replace it with an engagement ring. Or a wedding ring, if you prefer.”

Happiness surged through Peter. He looked at the ring, again.

“So… _technically_ … it _is_ an engagement ring.”

“Call it whatever you want, honey,” Tony told him. “Just don’t ever leave me.”


	212. 212

Peter’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, but the smile and happiness in his expression kept Tony from being concerned. If anything, he was probably as happy as his baby was, seeing that the ring had been so well-received, and that Peter hadn’t even hesitated at accepting it for exactly what it had meant. He knew the boy would do whatever he wanted to please him, as long as it was something that he _wanted_ – the infamous anal plug experiment had proved that, nicely – so it made him almost ache with happiness to see Peter so happy, too.

A soft ding interrupted them, and Tony released Peter’s hand, reluctantly. The door opened a polite moment later and two servers walked in asking them if they were ready to order.

“Know what you want?” Tony asked Peter.

“A burger.”

The billionaire smiled, and glanced at the servers, who were both smiling, too. The place was a four star Michelin restaurant, after all, and it wasn't something that was on the menu. However, they were also one of the highest rated customer experiences in the city, and if the customer wanted a _burger_ , then that was what the customer would have.

“With cheese?” one asked Peter, telling him that they didn’t have a problem with the request, and incidentally earning them a huge tip from Tony.

“Please.”

Tony handed back the menus.

“I’ll have the Alfredo shrimp pasta.”

When he didn’t tell them specifics in how he wanted it prepared, they nodded and left, assuming correctly that he’d eat it however the chef decided to make it that day. The billionaire reached for Peter’s hand once they were gone.

“Now… where were we?”

“You got me a ring and I said I do.”

Which made Tony smile, too.

“I don’t remember hearing that.”

“I _would_ , though,” Peter said. “I mean, I know I’m too young, now, but I still _am_ old enough to know what I want.”

“I know you are, honey.”

“And _who_ I want.”

“I agree.”

Of course he did. But he was so very relieved and grateful that _what_ and _who_ Peter wanted was a billionaire who was, yes, handsome and rich, but was also accompanied by enough baggage to drag anyone down. Unless they were radically enhanced by a vindictive spider and young enough to be able to handle all the terrible things that had already happened to them and manage to deal with _his_ shortcomings, too.

Peter rubbed Tony’s finger, lightly, looking at it. It was the mirror of the one that Tony had put his ring on.

“Can I get you one, too?” he asked, looking up at Tony. “I mean, obviously we can’t really wear them. People would guess in an instant – even if they didn’t match. But I’m going to get something so I can wear mine on a chain or something around my neck. Yours could go somewhere… like your wallet or…”

“Or on a chain around my neck,” Tony agreed, squeezing the boy’s hand. “You’d do that? Knowing what it means?”

Peter nodded.

“ _Because_ of what it means.”

Now it was Tony who was fighting back the tears, and Peter’s free hand came up and brushed against his chin.

“I made you cry.”

The older man sniffed.

“No. It’s _allergies_.”

Peter smiled.

“Uh huh.”

“It _is_ ,” Tony insisted. “I’m allergic to you, or something. Or maybe I’m allergic to so much _sweetness_.”

“I hope it isn’t _me_ ,” Peter told him, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “That would certainly spoil anything we might want to do, later…”

“God, I love you.”

“I love you, too, daddy.”

><><><><>< 

The meal was lingering. Not that it took that long for Peter to eat his cheeseburger and the fries (and Tony wondered if they’d actually cut a few potatoes to make them for the boy, since he knew that _fries_ weren’t on the menu, either) but they weren’t in any hurry to be done. Bob was fine where he was, and the only thing that they had scheduled for the day was for Peter to make an appearance as Spider-man for a few hours before it grew dark, so people could see him.

He was just going to do some low level swinging, maybe pull a cat from a tree, or something, and make sure the public was still talking about him on the runup to Friday’s press conference.

Changing the conversation to that, Tony had Peter call Ned from the restaurant and invite him to a clandestine meeting on Friday with him and Tony – and maybe a few others. The younger boy had accepted, immediately, and had then grudgingly went to ask his mom or dad for permission when Tony pointed out that they might need him there. He eventually came back with permission to do that – and was then sent back to the same parental figure when Tony mentioned going out to the compound on Saturday for a barbeque and that if his folks wanted to come, they were invited.

By then, they’d know Peter’s identity, so they might as well know the people that their son’s friend was going to be hanging out with. Tony then called Natasha, and then Fury, knowing those two would be the ones to make sure the others fell into line and were there to be in the photo.

By the time they left the restaurant, pleasantly full and in a great mood, things were laid on for the ‘family’ portrait and the barbeque. They picked up the car from the valet (and Tony signed the Ironman tattoo on the man’s forearm when he showed it to him) and then drove back to the apartment.

They stopped long enough to get Bob from Monica’s and to tender an invitation to the compound for her and Boomer while being fed a dozen fresh peanut butter cookies. The old woman had accepted – especially when she heard what the occasion was, and both of them had found themselves being hugged, cheerfully, before they were allowed to leave.

“You’re not too full to be swinging around?” Tony asked as Peter pulled the suitcase from under the guest bed and started undressing, hanging his slacks up, neatly, but tossing the shirt into the clothes hamper, since he’d dripped grease from his burger on it.

“No. I feel good.”

Tony had seated himself on the edge of the bed, watching as Peter pulled everything off but his boxers. He was still ripcord thin, but that wouldn’t last too long. Tony would fix that.

“You _look_ good, baby,” he agreed. “Come here…”

The boy smiled and moved to stand between his knees, brushing his fingers through Tony’s hair, looking at the ring that was still on his hand. Tony ran his own fingers along Peter’s sides, then his hips and finally the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down, just enough to be able to nuzzle his lips against Peter’s testicles, kissing them, lightly.

“Mmmm, daddy…”

“Like that, do you?”

“You know I do.”

Yeah. He _did_. Tony smiled.

“Want daddy to suck you, honey? I could make my baby feel so good before he goes out and fights crime on the mean streets…”

Peter laughed at that, but he reached down and took his cock in his hand and moved just a little, to allow the head to brush against Tony’s lips.

“Please, daddy…” he whispered, and then moaned, softly, when Tony opened his mouth to do just that.

He’d never say no to Peter – and there wasn't any particular time line for Spider-man that day, after all. They had all the time in the world, really, and certainly as much as they needed, just then.


	213. 213

_“Call from Natasha Romanoff…”_

 FRIDAY’s voice was muted in deference to the fact that Peter was asleep, but Tony didn’t have any trouble hearing her.

 He looked down at the boy, who was asleep on the couch with him. The head of Tony’s somewhat aroused penis was tucked into Peter’s mouth, and the boy had his hand resting on the shaft, where he’d been stroking Tony as he’d suckled his daddy until he’d fallen asleep.

 “Audio only, FRIDAY,” Tony said.

  _“Tony?”_

 “Yeah. Everything okay?”

  _“Yes. Is Peter home?”_

 “Yes.” He smirked, even though she couldn’t see it, and brushed his finger lightly against Peter’s hand, touching the metal of the ring that was on his finger. “Any particular reason you want to know?”

  _“The SHIELD guys lost track of him a few hours ago and none of them have been able to reaquire him. They told me he was in his costume and they lost him on 63 rd. They waited to see if he was going to come back the same way, but just contacted me to let me know he hasn’t.”_

“They’d have been hard-pressed to keep up with him,” Tony agreed. “He’s home, now, though – probably came a different direction on the way back.”

_“Anything interesting happen?”_

“He told me that he found a kid a woman lost somewhere on the street and she made a big fuss – which is perfect PR for an up and coming young superhero, right?”

_“It’ll look good.”_

“Watch the news, or social media,” Tony suggested. “It’ll probably make a good story.”

_“He’s okay?”_

“Yeah. Just a little tired, I think.”

He must have been. They’d eaten a light dinner when he’d returned early that evening, smiling and clearly pleased with himself, and then Peter had cleared the dishes while Tony walked Bob for the last time that night.

Then they’d settled on the sofa and rather than climb into Tony’s lap, Peter had blushed, slightly, and asked Tony diffidently if he could play with him for a while. Like he was going to say no? Tony had simply sat back and given himself over to Peter, telling him, gently, to do whatever he wanted.

Then he’d been delightfully pleased when his baby had gone down on him, working his cock with his growing skill until Tony had been bucking under him, moaning and practically begging for the boy to finish him.

Which Peter had. He’d swallowed Tony’s load, cleaned him, tenderly, and had then started again, only this time there was no urgency n the way he licked and suckled on him, until Peter had eventually fallen asleep still playing with him.

_“Don’t let him wear himself out before his press conference.”_

He smiled at the sternness in her voice.

“He has school, tomorrow, but that’s it. I’m not taking him into the tower with me, so he can spend the day relaxing and taking time to get some rest.”

_“Good. Call me if he gives you a hard time about it and I’ll come sit on him for you.”_

“I’ll be at the tower all day. If you want, you can come keep him company tomorrow afternoon. Then you can keep him out of trouble – and if he looks tired when I come home, I can blame you.”

Her soft snort made him smile.

_“Tell him that I’ll come take him to lunch tomorrow. What time will he finish school?”_

“FRIDAY will release him around noon.”

_“I’ll swing by at 11:30, then.”_

“I’ll let him know.”

She ended the call, then, and Tony looked down at the boy, again, brushing his fingers along his cheek – this time wanting to wake him, and rewarded by Peter opening his eyes, sleepily, and looking up at his touch. He pulled his head back, just a little, releasing Tony’s cock and rolling onto his back.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, honey,” Tony told him, taking hold of his penis and lightly brushing the head against Peter’s lips and cheek. “I’m ready for bed. You?”

Peter turned his head to kiss that favorite toy of his and his hand tightened lightly on the shaft, where Tony’s hand was, as well.

“Will you carry me, daddy?”

Which made the older man smile.

“Are you in the mood to be babied?”

Peter nodded.

“Will you?”

In answer, Tony shifted out from under Peter, got up and gathered him up into his arms, bridal style, kissing him before he carried him into their bedroom and deposited him gently onto the bed.

“You’re so beautiful, Peter,” he crooned, looming over his baby, who parted his legs, automatically, his knees holding Tony in place, there. “So perfect.” Tony kissed his neck, his tongue coming out to taste the boy's neck. “Are you tired…?”

“Not too tired,” Peter assured him, feeling his excitement beginning to rise in him.

“What do you want tonight, baby boy?” Tony asked, nuzzling his neck, tongue flicking along his ear and jaw. “How do you need me?”

“Like this…” Peter whispered, his jaw coming up to give Tony access to his neck. “I want to watch your eyes.”

The billionaire made a pleased noise, his hand sliding down between them and finding Peter’s cock, unerringly.

“I love you, baby. Let’s get you ready for me…”

Peter groaned, arching his back, lightly, to Tony’s touch.

“Yes. Make me feel good, daddy.”

><><><><<<> 

“Did I remember to tell you that Natasha’s coming to take you to lunch, this afternoon?”

Peter stretched, lazily, in the bed, watching as Tony – fresh from the shower – dressed in one of his expensive suits.

“She is?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Tony smiled.

“She misses your pretty smile.”

Which made Peter smile and blush.

“You could stay and keep me company…”

Tony moved over to the bed, sliding his hands along Peter’s naked hip. He’d kept Peter up a little later than he’d intended, the evening before, but their loving had been amazing, and Tony had taken his time arousing him to dizzying heights of pleasure before finally taking his own, as well.

“Pepper needs me at meetings, today. Get your schoolwork finished and spend the day doing as little as possible.”

Peter nodded, looking at the ring on his finger.

“I guess I should put this in my pocket…”

Tony shrugged, taking that hand and bringing it to his lips.

“You can let her see it,” he murmured. “It’ll be interesting to see her reaction.”

“Yeah?”

“Peter Parker…” Tony said, softly, kissing his fingers, again. “The man who tamed Tony Stark.”

The boy smiled, looking up at him, his eyes shining, happily.

“Peter _Stark_?” he asked.

The very thought of it made Tony’s eyes echo that happiness. And maybe just a little wonder.

 “Tony Parker?” he countered.

 “That just sounds odd, daddy.”

 “We have time to decide.” Tony let Peter’s hand go, kissed him thoroughly, and then pulled away. “Walk Bob and don’t forget to eat breakfast.”

 “I will.”

 “Not cereal.”

 “You really want me to make crepes?”

 Tony rolled his eyes.

 “Fine. Cereal. And _toast_. But you guys eat something substantial for lunch. Got it, baby boy?”

 “Yes, daddy.”

 Tony left, then, since FRIDAY announced Happy was pulling into the garage, and Peter rolled onto his back, stretching, once more.

 And smiled when a sudden thought struck him. He sat up, listening to make sure Tony was gone.

 “FRIDAY? You know Tony’s ring size, don’t you?”

  _“Of course. I know everything.”_

 “I’m going to need to know it,” Peter said, tossing the blankets aside and getting up. He needed a shower and to get ready for his day. “And a good place to buy a ring. But you can’t tell Tony.”

 She chirped an agreement, and Peter headed into the bathroom.

  _“Natasha’s coming over – and you still have school, this morning.”_

 “I know. Thank you.”

 Natasha could help him pick out the perfect ring.


	214. 214

The runup to the press conference was smooth.

Not surprising, really, since Pepper was right on top of things – and giving it the same amount of concentration and care that she did everything. One of the reasons Stark Industries was worth billions of dollars – and growing every day, it seemed.

Peter was scheduled to work in the lab with Bruce on Thursday, and Pepper came to Tony’s office while he was finishing up his schoolwork to talk with them about the next day’s schedule.

“No school, tomorrow?” she verified, settling herself on the sofa and taking the cup of coffee that Tony offered from a small pot he’d made a short time before.

“Right,” Peter told her. “It’s Friday, my off day.”

“And no lab?”

“Right.”

“We cleared the day for you,” Tony confirmed.

“We’re starting at noon. In the main auditorium.”

“We’ll be there.”

She looked at Peter.

“Wear jeans and a sweatshirt,” she told the boy.

“Not a suit?” Tony asked, surprised.

“No.”

“I was wearing a suit when I came out as Ironman.”

“ _You’re_ not cute and little,” she pointed out, smiling an apology at Peter for using the phrases – apt though they were as far as she and Tony were both concerned. “Peter would look out of place in a suit – even an expensive one. So, instead, we use his looks and those big, brown eyes. Flank him with Steve Rogers on one side and you on the other, and he’ll look young, and inexperienced – but really, the only thing people will be seeing is the future of the Avengers.”

“Alright. Do we put him in an _Avenger_ sweatshirt?”

“Something subtle,” she cautioned. “We don’t need to shove the association down anyone’s throat. The visualization is going to be enough.”

“Color?”

“Light. White, or a cream color. Peter’s complexion is too pale to put him in front of a camera in black.”

The discussion went on in the same vein, even after Peter left to go to the lab and help Bruce.

By the time the day was out, Tony knew exactly what to expect of the press event, and he shared that information with Peter (and Happy, who had the partition down) on the way home.

“Are you nervous?” Happy asked the boy when they arrived at the garage.

“About revealing myself to the public and everything that it means to my future?” Peter asked, smiling, slightly. “No. I’m surrounded by the best. I’ll be fine, right?”

“Damn right you will.” Happy looked at Tony. “Come get you at ten?”

“Yes. And then we’re heading to the compound after the conference.”

“To get me out of the public eye while they make up their own minds about what they were told,” Peter added, the phrasing making it clear that he was repeating what Pepper had told them.

“Good idea.”

“You’ll be coming to get Monica and Ned, tomorrow, though,” Tony reminded him.

“Yeah. I’m on it.”

“Casual dress for the picture.”

The driver nodded, looking pleased that he was included – although Peter couldn’t imagine not having him in it.

“Barbeque after?”

“Yeah. It’s potluck, so bring something when you come.”

He frowned.

“What are you bringing?”

Tony shrugged.

“Whatever Pepper picks up on her way in.”

Happy looked at Peter.

“What are _you_ bringing?”

The boy grinned, cheerfully.

“ _Tony_.”

“Pffft. Old and wrinkly. Who wants that?” He winked at Peter and said he’d see them in the morning, and they took Bob and headed for the elevator.

“For the record, I’m _not_ wrinkly,” Tony reminded Peter as the door closed.

“I’d want you, even if you were,” Peter assured him.

“That’s reassuring. What do you want for dinner, honey?” he asked as the door opened. “I was thinking that-“

Tony stopped short when he saw the apartment, which was dimly lit and smelled amazing.

Peter stopped, as well, taking Bob’s leash off and then smiling. The caterer that he’d hired had been let in by FRIDAY, had made the meal – which was now waiting in a small group of warming trays – and had left. The table was set with the good china, a bottle of wine chilling in the same ice as a bottle of cola for Peter, and candles waiting to be lit.

“Surprise…” Peter said, softly, taking Tony’s hand in his own.

“What’s this?”

“My turn.”

He led Tony over to the table and seated him, leaning over and kissing him, while fishing a box out of his pocket where it had been all day, distracting him. He handed it to Tony with a smile, and went to the other side of the table, watching while the older man opened it.

Tony’s expression was almost unreadable, unless you knew him well. He knew what a ring box looked like, too, of course, and the ring inside didn’t disappoint. Appropriately enough, it was a gold band, interlaced with red crisscrossing it, subtly, and gleaming in the light of the candles that Peter was lighting as he watched.

“It’s beautiful, honey.”

“So are you, Tony.”

He started to try it on, and noticed it was engraved.

“ _PP+TS_ …” and a date. Tony realized that the date was Peter’s 18th birthday. He slid it on his finger, admiring it. “Then I get to be Tony Parker?”

Peter smiled.

“Do you really want us to be _PP_ and _TP_?” he asked. “Can you imagine the jokes and the memes?”

Huh.

“You make a good point.”

“Besides, do you know how many people are going to cry when you change my name to Peter Stark?”

“Besides me, you mean?”

Which earned him a soft look, and Peter took his hand.

“I love you. Now you have my promise, too, right?”

“Yes.” He sniffed. “I love you, too.”

They were silent for a moment, just looking at each other, enjoying the fact that they had the other person – and feeling like the luckiest person in the world, without realizing the other felt the same way.

Peter took his hand back, and reached into his pocket, again, pulling out a fine piece of black leather thong.

“I got you this…” he handed it to Tony, and reached under the sweatshirt he was wearing to pull out the piece of leather that he’d threaded through the promise ring Tony had given him and then hung around his neck. “I was going to get a gold chain, but Natasha thought that leather would be better for us. She mentioned that the constant rubbing of an actual chain might get annoying on our necks.”

“Romanoff knows?”

“You said I could show her mine. And then she helped me pick out your ring.”

Of course, she did.

“I love it. And the idea of having your ring with me all the time.”

Peter looked about as pleased with himself as Tony could ever remember seeing him.

“Thanks, daddy.” He got up and moved into Tony’s lap, then, ignoring the fancy dinner setting in favor of cuddling – even though they were on wooden chairs at the dining room table. “Are you happy, then?”

Tony nuzzled Peter’s neck, hugging him close.

“Always happy with you, baby,” he assured him. “You had someone make us dinner?”

“Yeah. Surprise.”

The billionaire chuckled.

“Let’s eat, honey,” he suggested. “Then I’ll thank you, properly.”


	215. 215

“Is he alright?”

Tony looked over at Peter, who was on the other side of the room talking to Barb Johansen with Natasha Romanoff standing beside him, one hand resting companionably on the boy’s shoulder. The boy was radiating happiness that Tony could practically feel even from that distance, and he smiled when he turned back to Pepper.

“Yeah, I think he’s fine. You did great with this thing; thank you.”

She smiled, too.

“You don’t get to introduce a new superhero every day. You’re taking him to the compound for the weekend?”

“Yeah. If he doesn’t spontaneously combust between now and then.”

She looked at Peter, again.

“Did he sleep at all last night?”

“No. He was awake when I finally went to sleep and was awake when I woke up.”

Which was true. Tony had loved Peter, thoroughly, the evening before. When they were both slake from multiple (in Peter’s case _several_ ) orgasms, Tony had gathered his baby into his arms and fallen asleep. And had woken an hour later with the space next to him empty. A quick – almost _instinctive_ – query to FRIDAY told him that Peter was in the kitchen making himself a sandwich with left-over chicken from their catered dinner, and Tony had fallen asleep waiting for him to return.

When he’d woken, next, Peter was still gone, and another inquiry to his AI found Tony getting up and pulling on a robe to walk out to the living room where Peter was sitting on the sofa, watching a movie. The boy had pulled on sweats and a sweatshirt against the inevitable chill that he always felt when he was out of bed or the bathtub, but he didn’t seem to be distressed.

“What’s wrong, honey?” he’d asked, settling beside him and patting his lap, invitingly.

“Nothing, daddy,” Peter had assured him. The boy had climbed into his lap, and rested his head on Tony’s shoulder. His hand automatically went inside Tony’s robe and found the ring that was hanging on the leather thong, resting against the arc reactor. “I’m not sleepy, and didn’t want to keep you awake.”

Tony had yawned, brushing his fingers through Peter’s hair, trying to relax him. He could feel the tense excitement in the body that was so intimately close to him and knew it wasn't because of his proximity. It was either nerves, or excitement – or a combination of both.

“You need to get some rest, baby,” he’d murmured.

“I know.”

Neither had made any move to get up, though, and return to the bedroom, and Tony had eventually fallen asleep on the couch, with Peter cuddled against him, still wide awake.

When he’d woken, next, the sun was shining through the automatically shaded windows of the apartment, and Peter was at the dining table, dressed for his day and eating a bowl of cereal while reading a book.

><><>>>> 

“He’ll sleep well, tonight, then,” Pepper predicted.

Tony nodded his agreement.

“Are you coming out, tonight?”

“No. It’s _Friday_. I have a date. If you had a _social life_ , any longer, you’d know how that felt.”

She’d said it lightly, and softly enough that even Peter couldn’t hear it across the room filled with the press, who were still buzzing about the revealing of the Spider-man’s identity. Not to mention Ned, who was excitedly talking to Steve Rogers about the barbeque at the compound the next day. Of course, even if the boy had heard the comment, he knew Peter would have laughed.

It was Pepper, after all. Peter knew Pepper liked him. Friends were allowed to tease without causing hurt feeling.

“I’m staying out of trouble,” Tony pointed out. “You should be happy I’m staying home, more.”

“Oh, I _am_ ,” she assured him. “That wasn't a challenge.”

She hadn’t had to deal with negative press in months, now.

Tony smirked, taking a sip of his drink, still watching Peter, who had been joined by Ned and Steve, now, and was smiling as Rhodey joined them, too. He was the military liaison to the Avengers, after all, and had definitely been invited to the press conference.

“He hasn’t had lunch, yet,” Tony told her. “I’ll stuff him full of something heavy and then he’ll probably sleep on the way to the compound. Then he can watch me work on my new suit until dinner – which will probably knock him out, again.”

“You’re such a dad, now,” she said, approvingly.

Before he could say anything, further, their own conversation was interrupted by several members of the press coming up to them to follow up on comments made during the release and Tony fielded informal questions while still managing to keep an eye on his baby from across the room.

><><><>>>> 

Lunch had been in the tower executive dining room.

Peter and Ned were easily the youngest attending, but Steve, Rhodey, Natasha and Tony had a good time discussing how the press conference had gone, what Peter’s new (and still very limited role) with the Avengers would be in the near future and the activities of the next day.

Natasha had offered to take Ned home for Tony, and the boy had jumped at the chance to be chauffeured by her and Steve. They’d left, and Rhodey had gone soon after. Stuffed full of hot turkey sandwiches, mashed potatoes and gravy and all the carbs that come with it, Peter complained that he was too full to move – even when Happy’s appearance at the loading zone outside the tower lobby was announced.

As Tony had expected he would, the boy had climbed into his lap almost immediately once they reached the car and Bob had been settled into his spot on the seat across from them.

“How do you feel, baby boy?” Tony asked him, his arms coming around Peter and his lips pressing softly against his cheek before the boy rested his head on his shoulder.

“Good.”

“Yeah?”

“How does it feel to be an Avenger?”

“Good.”

Tony smiled; amused. Peter’s monosyllabic answers were proof that his baby was tired. He shifted just a little under him, getting more comfortable.

“You were wonderful, honey,” he crooned, softly. “You looked so handsome up there. So brave. So perfect.”

The boy shivered at the praise, but didn’t lift his head.

“Thanks, daddy.”

“When we get to the compound, I’m going to work on my suit.”

“I can watch?” Peter asked, sleepily.

“M-hmm.” Tony made sure to modulate his tone to begin relaxing Peter. “We’ll spend some time together in my workroom, just the two of us.”

“Yeah.”

Tony turned his head and kissed Peter once more, and then closed his eyes, just enjoying the company of the boy in his arms and crooning gentle words of love as he lulled his baby to sleep.

><<><><>> 

The compound was fairly quiet when they arrived, but Peter was still groggy enough that he wasn't ready for a lot of activity, anyway.

“You could just extend your nap,” Tony suggested to the boy when they went to his quarters so the billionaire could change out of his suit and into something more casual for working in his lab. “I’m not going to be doing anything too exciting.”

Peter shook his head, although he did sit down on Tony’s bed.

“I’m not tired.”

“No?”

Tony walked over to the bed, bare-chested, now, with just the ring on the thong adorning his upper body. Peter shook his head, parting his knees so the older man could stand between them as close as he could be. Which put him in position for Peter to rest his head against his daddy’s stomach.

“No.”

He ran his fingers through Peter’s hair, tempted as always to open his pants and take advantage of the perfect position Peter was in, just then. Instead, he pressed him back onto the bed, following him until he was hovering over him.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He kissed him, soundly, and forced himself to move away – otherwise he was going to end up taking them both to bed instead of getting anything done. “I’ll finish changing and you can keep me company.”

“Yeah.”

He really wanted to see what Tony was going to do with the new suit, well aware that his daddy had been perusing the data from the latest trials over the past week. He was a little sleepy, still, though, and even though he was upright, again, his eyelids were definitely drooping while he watched as Tony finished changing.

The boy vaguely remembered hearing a soft chuckle before Tony was gathering him up in his arms and putting him to bed. He might have protested, but the warm body of his daddy cuddled next to him.

“Go to sleep, honey,” Tony whispered, softly, in his ear, when a blanket came up and over them. “Daddy has you.”

Content in that knowledge, Peter did as he was told as his sleepless night caught up with him, once more, and he fell asleep.


	216. 216

“Alright, all the short people to the front…”

“Tony, go sit next to Peter…”

The billionaire scowled at Romanoff.

“I’ll have you know, I’m _several_ inches taller – “

“Do you _want_ to be by him in the family portrait, or not?”

He made a noise that might have been agreement, or maybe a complaint, but he did as he was told and walked over to settle himself in the grass of the field near Peter, with Bob between them. The weather was cooperating beautifully, and the sun was shining down on the compound, allowing them all to toss jackets and sweatshirts aside for the photographer, and both of them had their rings on the thongs around their necks.

True, they were tucked under their shirts, but that didn’t matter.

Tony smiled at Peter, who was gracefully sitting on the grass with the flexibility of youth and watching as the photographer was rounding up all of the Avengers and the visitors – including two dogs that were more interested – at first – in wrestling with each other (and Ned). Monica called Boomer to order with a command in German, while Bob was worn out enough by then that he was willing to flop beside Peter and accept scratches, now.

Ned took a little longer to settle, but Natasha finally solved that by putting the boy between her and Steve in the back row.

“Everyone ready?” the photographer asked.

Peter looked back behind him, one hand resting on Bob’s neck – which happened to be the same place _Tony_ had his hand, as well. It looked casual, but it was going to be in their portrait, this way. With them in the front was Boomer and Monica, who had shown absolutely no issue settling on a blanket on the grass with Boomer in between her and Peter. She was dressed in jeans and a blouse, and looked like she was having the time of her life, even though she hadn’t known any of the Avengers before she’d been introduced to them that afternoon when Happy had delivered her and Ned to the compound.

In the next row, standing, were Rhodey, Clint, Fury, Pepper and Robert. Rhodey looked a little annoyed, dressed in a pair of Tony’s jeans and one of the billionaire’s long sleeved t-shirts. The man had arrived dressed in his formal military uniform and Tony had immediately sent him to his own quarters to change into something more suitable for the photograph – and then the barbeque. The others were all dressed equally casual; even Fury was wearing a pair of black jeans and a sharply starched white shirt that gleamed in the afternoon sun.

Behind them, Steve, Ned, Natasha, Sam, Happy and several of the SHIELD agents were all grouped, as well, and waiting, patiently, for the photographer to make sure everyone was facing the correct way, looked happy and relaxed and then took several different pictures – moving the participants into different rows a few times, getting a photo with Peter and the women, Tony and the women, Peter with Tony and the dogs, and a hundred different variations.

Peter couldn’t wait to see how they turned out, and he was all smiles as he and Tony reached down to lift Monica to her feet, once more.

“Thanks for coming out,” he told her, sincerely. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you in it.”

She waved away his gratitude.

“Do you have any idea how good this is going to look in my flower shop?” she asked. “I don’t even need to _endorse_ it. I’ll just let people look at the photo and assume on their own that my flower shops are the official shops of superheroes everywhere.”

Peter wasn't the only one to smile at that.

“You do that,” Tony told her, warmly. “And if you want, I’ll sign on for _one_ commercial. But not with the suit.”

Ned came running up, then, just as excited now as he’d been the day before when Peter had been proclaimed as Spider-man in front of the media.

“Mom’s on her way. She said fifteen minutes out.”

Ned’s parents couldn’t both come to the compound for the barbeque. Not on a Saturday. Especially with Ned gone, already and the store busier than ever now that Spider-man was the newest and hottest commodity on the superhero circuit. His mother was going to join them for the barbeque to show Peter her support for her son’s best friend, and because she truly liked Peter and Tony, both.

“Good.” Tony looked around, noting that the staff was beginning to bring out tables, grills and everything needed for a huge barbeque. “Why don’t you and Peter go out and meet her, show her around before bringing her out here?”

“Can we?” Ned asked.

“Of course.” He waited until Ned had dragged a willing Peter – and a not so willing Bob – off into the building, and then whistled, sharply, getting the attention of a couple of the staff folks, as well as the other Avengers. “He’s gone,” Tony called. “We’ve got about half an hour. Let’s get things set up.”

><><><><><> 

“I’m still going to be living in the city,” Peter said, some time later, while he and Ned were showing his friend’s mother the main areas of the compound. “With _Tony_. But, sometimes, I’ll be out here – for training and briefing and de-briefing. All that kind of stuff. So, I have my own quarters, here, too.”

She looked into the room, taking in the slightly lived in look of the place, and nodded her approval.

“And they have someone here to make sure that you’re safe?” she asked. “To make sure that you’re eating? Finishing your schoolwork?”

Peter smiled, even though Ned rolled his eyes.

“He’s an _Avenger_ , now, mom,” the boy told his mother. “He doesn’t need a baby-sitter.”

“He’s still sixteen.”

“Tony’s taken the responsibility for taking care of me,” Peter assured her. “When he’s too busy, his AI FRIDAY and Natasha Romanoff are stand ins.”

“He has _Ironman_ for a mentor,” Ned said, properly impressed. “He’ll be fine.”

Ned’s mom was a little harder to impress, but looking around had made her feel a little better about Peter’s safety, and by the time they headed out to the field where the barbeque was being set up, Peter had a feeling she wasn't quite as worried about him as she had been the evening before. It probably didn’t hurt that Ned was doing a lot of fast talking as they walked, pointing out all the security, and the training that Peter would be getting with all of the SHIELD people as well as the Avengers, themselves.

“And when he’s done with _school_ and has more time to train, he’ll – “

_“SURPISE!”_

The three of them stopped at the doorway, and Peter saw that while he and Ned had been gone the others had decorated the barbeque area. The color scheme, now, was blue and red and there were webs draped in a few places, along with a banner that welcomed Spider-man to the Avengers, and – vicariously – _Peter_ into the group, formally.

Ned and his mother stayed at the exit, but Peter stepped forward and found himself caught up in a hug, courtesy of Natasha Romanoff, who swung him around, cheerfully.

“Hey, baby! Welcome to your party.”

“I thought we were going to have a _barbeque_ …” he said, smiling.

“A barbeque/ _party_ – in your honor,” Sam told him, ruffling his hair when Natasha released him. “Can’t let such a momentous occasion pass by without acknowledging it, now can we?”

_“Wow…”_

The others crowded around Peter, now, slapping his shoulders, messing up his hair and wishing him the best as the boy found himself surrounded by the Avengers and his friends.

“He looks happy…” Fury said, softly, to Tony, who had hung back to watch Peter be congratulated by the rest.

The billionaire nodded, reaching down and scratching Bob’s ear when the mastiff ambled over to him to get some attention since Peter was too busy, just then.

“Yes.”

“It was a good idea, Tony.”

Tony wasn't completely sure if Nick meant having the party, or having Peter come out as Spider-man. He nodded, though, because as far as he was concerned both were true.

“Yeah. I think so, too.”

“He’s going to be a hell of an asset.”

Tony smiled, catching Peter’s eye for the briefest of moments before Clint put a hand on his shoulder and turned him toward the table, where there was an amazing cake and a huge array of food waiting for the celebrants to help themselves to.

“Yes, he is.”

><><><><><> 

It was well after dark before Tony had Peter to himself, once more.

Once the last person had said goodbye, Tony and Peter walked with Bob back to the billionaire’s quarters, closing and locking the door behind them, shutting the rest of the world out, for just a little while.

“Did you have a good time?” Tony asked, as Peter leaned into his embrace with a sigh.

“It was great. Thank you.”

“It wasn't just my idea,” Tony admitted, pressing a kiss against Peter’s temple. “They thought you’d like it.”

“I did, daddy.”

“You’re so amazing, Peter.”

He felt the boy shiver at the praise – and the touch.

“ _The amazing Spider-man_ ,” he said, grinning, his eyes lit up with happiness that he couldn’t hide – ad knew he didn’t need to when he was with Tony.

“The amazing _Peter Parker_ ,” Tony corrected, pulling back enough to be able to kiss him, softly. “ _My_ amazing Peter Parker.”

Peter tucked himself back against Tony, enjoying the comforting embrace of the man holding him. He slid his hand under his shirt, brushing slender fingers along Tony’s stomach and making the older man tense in anticipation.

“Daddy…”

“What do you want, baby boy?” Tony crooned in Peter’s ear, his hands going under Peter’s jeans to allow him to cup his rear and pull him firmly against him. “What are we going to do to celebrate?”

“Whatever you want, tonight, daddy,” Peter replied, tilting his head and kissing Tony’s neck. “I don’t want to decide. Please?”

Tony smiled, knowing that Peter wasn't afraid to tell him what he wanted, now. He was confident enough that if he had something in mind, he’d ask for it. Tonight was up to Tony because Peter wanted to be the baby and allow Tony to be the daddy.

And that was fine with Tony.

He reached for Peter’s shirt and pulled it off, his lips finding Peter’s sensitive nipple.

“Let’s get naked, honey,” he whispered. “Daddy wants to play with his baby and make him feel good.”

Peter smiled, shivering – and it had nothing to do with the temperature.

“Yes, daddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story is winding down, now, and very close to being done. Because of that I'm allowing the anonymous comments again so anyone can tell me what they think of it. I'll just deal with the antis if they pop in, again.  
> Thanks!


	217. Epilogue

“They’re going to kill us…” Peter murmured, softly, as he and Tony walked into the little building, signing in with a receptionist and then allowing her to guide them toward a small, beautifully decorated room. “You _know_ that, right?”

Tony smirked.

“We’ll make it up to them all, later.” He reached for Peter’s hand, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a tender kiss against the palm. “I told you happy birthday, right?”

Those brown eyes that he loved so much were excited and happy.

“Yes.”

“Good. Because I’m pretty sure I’ll forget to, later, and I don’t want to start things off on the wrong-“

He was interrupted with the arrival of three people; a man dressed in a sharply tailored tuxedo, and a man and a woman who were dressed a little more casually. The man in the tux stood in front of them, while the others each took a position; one to each side of Peter and Tony. The boy wasn't too surprised that none of them seemed to recognize who they were.

Tony Stark and Peter Parker were on the east coast, somewhere in New York, after all. They were probably sitting down to lunch in the Avenger compound – or in their apartment in the city. They definitely _weren’t_ in Las Vegas at an out of the way – but very classy – wedding chapel where they had snuck off to in order to get married.

“Are we _ready_?” the minister asked, kindly.

Tony smiled over at Peter.

“Ready, baby?”

Peter’s answer was a smile that lit up his entire face – and the room around him.

“Yes.”

The minister looked at the receptionist, who was in the room as another formal witness.

“All the paperwork is in order?”

Which was his way of delicately asking if she’d made sure the young man standing in front of him was actually _old_ enough to get married.

“They’re set,” she confirmed.

He smiled, ready to get down to business, then, and looked at the tablet that he suddenly had in his hand.

“Anthony and Peter… You’re both here, standing in front of me and the witnesses, because you’ve decided the person beside you is the person that you want to spend the rest of your life with. This isn’t a commitment to take lightly, nor is it a decision to make without the understanding that being with someone in a long term relationship takes love, patience, the ability and willingness to sacrifice your needs for the other’s, and devotion. Are you both committed to that?”

Peter looked at Tony, and they smiled at each other; if he had any idea…

“Yes,” Tony answered, his hand squeezing Peter’s, lightly. “I am.”

“So am I,” Peter agreed.

“Then let’s make it official.”

Tony felt Peter’s grip tighten, just a little, and he responded in kind, giving his baby the support that he always had for him.

The last year and a half hadn’t been without any difficulties; Tony had warned Peter a long time ago that he could be an asshole, after all, and he’d proven it more than a couple of times. Peter was an up and coming superhero, after all, and was busy learning how to be one without getting himself hurt, and how to be part of an established team. He had also been finishing school, and had been taking a couple of nights a week to go out as Spider-man and see if there was anything that required his own personal attention.

All of that took away from time that he could be spending with Tony, and sometimes the billionaire was moody because of it. Which led to him occasionally snapping at Peter. The first time it had happened had been the worst; Peter had dissolved into tears and Tony had found him in the bathtub, wrapped in his blanket, clutching the ring Tony had given him in his hand so tightly that there was an indentation in his palm in the same pattern as the metal.

Tony had joined him in the tub and had held him, assuring him that he loved him and crooning that love and praises to him until Peter had calmed, once more. It was a reminder to Tony just how much power his words and attitude had over the boy, despite the fact that Peter was so much stronger than he was and that even though Peter was gaining more self-confidence every day, Tony still had to be gentle with him.

Even superheroes could have their feelings hurt, and their hearts broken, after all.

From then on, Tony had been more careful about his complaints, and Peter had been more careful about keeping Tony from feeling neglected. Both had the ability to hurt the other, and knew it. They were still learning, after all. Perfect relationships didn’t exist, but they were determined theirs was going to be one.

They’d spent Peter’s 17th birthday celebrating with Bob in Italy. Peter was of legal consenting age in New York, now, but they still kept their relationship a secret from everyone but those who knew them best, and were very lowkey about it even with those very few who knew. They didn’t mind, really. They loved each other, fiercely, and they only had a year, now, before they could make things official.

Peter hit a growth spurt just before he passed his finals to get his diploma. By the time it was over, he’d managed to grow a whole _inch_ , which had made the other Avengers oooh and aww, and made him preen as he pointed out to Tony that he might need a whole new wardrobe, now that he was so much taller – and would probably need a new spider suit.

The billionaire had agreed. He and Peter had gone shopping for new clothes, and then Tony had had FRIDAY do a new scan of Peter's body, readying the system to start on a new suit for his baby. This time he went all out, using Peter to perfect the newest nanotech armor that was similar to his new Ironman suit, but much more supple to give the boy the flexibility that he needed while swinging – and the protection that Tony insisted that he have.

Tony also noted with satisfaction that Peter was filling out, nicely, under his care. The boy was never going to be big – as his growth spurt had proven – but the ribs weren’t so easy to feel, now, when he ran his hands along his body in the night, and his face was now less angular and a bit rounder. Which was perfect, as far as Tony was concerned – even though Peter lamented that he didn’t have the chiseled jawline that _Steve_ had, and couldn’t seem to grow any facial hair to hide that fact.

Tony assured him that not every superhero needed that impressive jawline, or facial hair.

“ _Natasha_ doesn’t have either,” he pointed out, smirking.

Peter had just rolled his eyes, and Romanoff had hugged him, close, laughing.

><><><><>> 

The ceremony that married them was short, by design, and that was fine with both of them. They knew that they’d have to do something back home, eventually, so their friends could celebrate with them, but this time it was just for the two of them. Even Bob had been left with Ned, who had simply been told that they needed to go out on a clandestine mission, and reminded the boy to check in with Monica if their dog needed anything.

When it was over, new rings – made of a metal that Tony was now playing with a little, called Vibranium – adorned both of them, and these wouldn’t be hidden on strings around their necks. They didn’t have a cake – although the chapel costs included a reception – and instead, Tony had taken his baby back to their hotel.

“Are you happy?” he asked Peter as they walked out of the elevator and toward their suite.

“I’ve never been happier, daddy…” he assured him. “You?”

“You know I am.”

Tony had been sleeping, and eating, and generally taking better care of himself for two years, now, and it showed. He was healthier than he’d ever been, and smiled more. Not to mention sleeping in the arms of someone who loved him had the enjoyable side-effect of also keeping the nightmares and panic attacks that he was subject to having at bay.

Peter might think that Tony had rescued him in that alley, but there was no doubt in the billionaire’s mind that the boy had saved him, as well. Maybe it was more subtle in his case, but it was just as profound, and he knew it.

They stopped outside the door and Tony opened it, but caught Peter’s hand before the boy could walk into the room.

“Let’s do it right, honey,” he said, smiling, catching him up into his arms, bridal style. “Going to carry my baby across the threshold.”

Peter smiled, his chocolate eyes shining with happiness that made Tony lean down and kiss him even as they moved through the door. The romantic effect was spoiled when Tony hit both of their heads against the door on the way in, and Peter laughed, pulling his head back to rub the spot where he’d hit.

“ _Smooth_ , daddy…” he chided, lovingly.

“At least I didn’t _drop_ you,” Tony pointed out, kicking the door closed behind them and taking Peter into the bedroom before settling him on the bed in an easy motion. “Are you bleeding?”

Peter shook his head, reaching up and brushing his fingers along the older man’s jawline, following his facial hair and admiring Tony’s handsome face, while also seeing the ring on his finger.

“No. But it’s probably going to need some loving care.”

Tony smiled, leaning over his baby, his eyes suddenly dark with desire that never seemed to fade, no matter how many times he had Peter under him.

“Then I’d better _blow_ on it, honey…” he whispered, pressing a kiss against Peter’s forehead. “That’ll make it feel better. Won’t it?”

Peter chuckled; a happy sound that made Tony’s heart sing.

“Yes, daddy. I think that’d do the trick.”

“I love you, Peter Stark,” Tony told him, looking down at him, amazed – as always – that he was so lucky.

Peter’s answer wasn't vocal, but it was just as satisfying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even tell you all how much I loved writing this story and how glad I was that you wanted to read it. Thank you so very much for the love, and encouragement and ideas you passed along as we took this journey together!


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